


I Can't Be On This Planet Alone

by UltimateGryffindork



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Children of Earth Fix-It, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Build, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateGryffindork/pseuds/UltimateGryffindork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Harkness is covered in Names, but there's one that he doesn't know - and it's the one that he has been waiting all his life to meet.</p><p>Ianto Jones only has two Names, but he knows that one of them's a lie. He never wants to meet Jack Harkness, whoever he is.</p><p>A re-telling of Janto's story, right from the very start, in a soulmate AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little idea I had that somehow managed to grow until this was the result. We start just before Ianto joins Torchwood Three, and this will hopefully tell their story up until the end of Children of Earth.
> 
> Title is from Charlene Kaye's song 'A Million Years'. You should definitely check it out - it's about waiting to find your soulmate and is perfect for this fic!

Jack was covered in Names. Wrapping around his neck, right down to his wrists, all down his chest, his thighs, wrapping around under his heels. The latest few had come through on his fingers, one behind his ear; the only places on his skin where there was still space.

He’d look at them sometimes, in the mirror; twisting round to see all the ones in awkward places, the new names crammed between the older ones. At first they had come quickly, a new one every one or two months; after all, he’d been young (or at least, he looked young, and had a libido to match), had a newfound immortality which lead to many a poor decision, and he’d always had a tendency to fall in love easily. It didn’t take much; a matter of days, really, filled with sleepy, slow mornings, afternoons full of intimacy and secrets, and wild, sleepless nights, until one of them got bored, or the wife or husband came home, or (in one rather memorable case) he’d found out he’d been with both the wife and the husband.

Some of the Names were well-known even today; Christopher Isherwood, Alan Turing, Marcel Proust, and multiple Pankhursts. Others were known only to him; Lucia Moretti, Greg Bishop, Joseph Smith, Estelle Cole, Melissa Holt, John Hart; but he remembered them just as well. Some of them weren’t in any language he could read, although he knew who they belonged to. He couldn’t forget any of them; not really. After all, they’d all left their mark.

There were others, of course; countless others, who hadn’t stayed long enough or been exciting enough to really justify feelings of love, but their faces all ran into one – or two, in some cases – and none of them had left a lasting impression. And as much as he tried to deny it, then as time went by fewer new names were appearing; more and more were added onto the endless list of forgotten people. Something funny happened, he mused, when you stopped caring about yourself. It made it harder to care about other people. If you were unable to die, it made it quite hard to find something, or someone, that you were willing to die for.

There was one Name, however, which was different from the rest. It looked different; the large, flowing calligraphy that graced his left forearm stood out from the small, jagged script that covered the rest of his body. It had been there the longest, too; been there since the day he was born. One person, one person out of all of the universes, who was meant for him. It was the one Name he had where he couldn’t match the face; where they’d never even met. He’d given up searching years ago, centuries ago; after all, if you can live forever, you’re in no hurry to get anything done. He’d given up hope; if they hadn’t met within his natural lifetime, what were the chances of it happening anytime soon?

 _No_ , he’d tell himself every day as he looked down at those ten letters that fate had picked out. _Don’t think about it, Jack. Don’t think about him. There’s no point. Just get on with your day, just block it out. Stop worrying about Ianto Jones._

* * *

 

Ianto Jones was in love. He’d been in love for a few years now, and he knew – he just knew – that she was the one.

_Lisa Hallett_

The Name curled delicately around his ankle, having appeared one day a few weeks into their relationship. It confirmed what he already knew; that she was who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He loved her with all his heart, and he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. They would never be apart, he knew that; although she may not be his assigned soulmate (which was a load of rubbish anyway), although they wouldn’t have that empathetic connection, although they wouldn’t die together as soulmates do, they would be together forever. He knew it, deep down, and he felt his heart skip a beat every time he thought about it.

But sometimes, it wouldn’t feel quite right. Occasionally he’d wake up before she did and feel a sudden sense of betrayal before remembering that it was okay, it was Lisa, he wasn’t letting anyone down; or he’d feel the bottom drop out of his stomach as he thought about what he was missing out on, spending his life with Lisa instead of somebody else. He always made sure to squash those feelings deep, deep down though, because there was no one else. There never would be.

It was partly why he and Lisa were so great together; she’d seen her soulmate’s name in the paper one day in her early teens – in the obituaries. She was soulmate-less too; it made sense, of course, that they’d gravitate towards each other.

Occasionally someone would ask if his soulmate had died, or why he wasn’t out pursuing the girl he was meant to be with, and he had been known to tell people that she’d passed away; it was easier to deal with, even it was a lie – and he never said it in front of Lisa. The truth was that fate had just made a mistake with him. His Name wasn’t right, and he was okay with that, he really was. He had Lisa’s name now, and that was all he needed. Because he wasn’t… well, he wasn’t into that. He wasn’t _like_ that. He liked women, he always had and he always would. There had just been a mistake. People got married all the time to people who weren’t their soulmates; it was fine.

Lisa had been surprisingly understanding about the whole thing, the first time he’d taken his shirt off around her. She’d gently traced the letters with her fingers, running her hands around his ribcage as they kissed.

Everything was different now, though. Lisa had been changed, she was ill, and she needed help, but the only place where she would be able to get help had been destroyed in the battle at Canary Wharf. He had to go back home, as much as he didn’t want to, and take Lisa with him; surely Torchwood Three would give him a job, and he could help her there. It was the only way; only the kind of technology kept at Torchwood could save her now.

Nothing had changed, he was sure of it. London or Cardiff, he and Lisa could be together; it didn’t matter. And if he spared a moment each day to pray that today would not be the day that he met the man with the name Jack Harkness, then he didn’t think anything of it.


	2. First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto's searching for Torchwood Three finally pays off, but not without an unexpected turn of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys! It's been just over 24 hours and I've already had such a good response from just the prologue! Thank you all :)
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I don't think I'll be able to make it much better any time soon. So here goes!
> 
> Trigger warning: thoughts of self-harm

It was dark inside.

It was always dark inside; Ianto was losing track of the days, and the thought of opening a curtain was just too much right now. He spent his time sitting in the same chair, spending every waking minute alternating between caring for Lisa and trawling through the internet for even the vaguest mention of Torchwood in Cardiff. He hadn’t even told his family that he was back yet; he didn’t have the energy to deal with them, or anyone else for that matter. His only duty now was to Lisa; he had to make sure she was safe, that she lived. He couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if she didn’t.

Days of internet searches were finally starting to pay off, however; it seemed that Cardiff had an infestation of weevils. You saw the odd one around London, of course, but their numbers were nothing like in Cardiff. Either Cardiff had colonies of them, or Torchwood Three were just really bad at their job. Once every week or so someone would post about these strange creatures that they’d seen, and it never took more than a few hours for any pictures or descriptions to be taken down; but Ianto’s laptop, still installed with Torchwood software, could bypass this. A few clicks of a mouse and he could see every version of every webpage – both before and after Torchwood Three got their hands on it.

He set an alert that would tell him as soon as someone posted something new about any alien activity and put his laptop down on the ground beside him, leaning forward to take Lisa’s hand. Her fever was getting worse but he’d tried every known cure and then some. He was running out of time; in a few more days she could be dead, or worse. He had to get her some help, and he had to get it fast.

She was fading away, he could feel it; her presence was somehow less than it had been. Every time he felt her slip away a little bit further he could feel the skin in his side tighten, as if to make itself known, but he always ignored it. He couldn’t face up to that, not now.

He had considered, time and again, just scoring through those twelve damned letters, deep enough to scar but not enough to cause serious damage, but he had never come closer than right now, alone with a fading Lisa, hating that nagging feeling deep inside him that _something wasn’t right_ , that there should be something more. He had to be there for Lisa, he had to help her, and that was that.

The silence of the room was suddenly broken with an inhuman screech as Lisa jerked to life, writhing in pain, the sound piercing every crevice of the room. Ianto jumped to attention, kicking his laptop in the process but not caring.

“Lisa?” he croaked, his voice dry from lack of use. “Lisa, can you hear me? Lisa? Lisa?!”

He was shaking her, probably too hard, desperate to reach her somehow. She’d stopped screaming but was still twitching where she lay, her eyes moving rapidly below her eyelids.

“Lisa, listen to me, Lisa wake up, please Lisa, please!” He couldn’t stop the tears from coming as he desperately begged. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I’m here, just please, please come back to me.”

He checked her pulse; it was regular. Too regular.

The springs on the mattress creaked as he sat down gently next to her, one hand caressing her cheek as he tried his best to blot out the metal casing around her head. “I love you, Lisa,” he whispered, but the words felt empty. “Please, hang in there. For me.” _I don’t know what I’ll do without you,_ he added in his head, but he didn’t dare say them out loud; it would make it too real.

He jumped as the quiet was once again interrupted; this time, it was his laptop, the screen slightly cracked from where he had knocked it. It was an alert; someone had posted a video online.

 _Weird creep in bute park!!!!_ the title boasted, and Torchwood’s image recognition software had once again worked its magic; there, in a grainy image that was probably taken on a flip-phone, was what couldn’t be anything but a weevil.

“Bingo,” Ianto said to himself, smiling for the first time in weeks. He leant forwards, gently kissing Lisa’s forehead. “I’m going to get you help,” he whispered against her skin. “It’s all going to be okay from now on; I promise.”

* * *

 

It was easy to slip into the park after it had shut for the night, and even easier to find the rogue weevil. The hard part was following it; close enough to attack as soon as someone else showed up, but far enough away that the weevil wouldn’t notice him.

Deep down, in his gut, he knew that tonight would be successful; he would find Torchwood. He couldn’t explain it; he could only describe it as an instinct, a sense that tonight was the night that things would finally start going his way.

Sure enough, after less than an hour of trailing the weevil round the park, there was the sound of running footsteps as a tall figure, silhouetted against the lights from the city, barrelled into the weevil sideways. Where the man had been hiding, Ianto had no idea, but he seemed far too well-versed in the field of weevil-fighting to be working for anyone but Torchwood. This was his chance; Torchwood was within touching distance.

He scanned the ground for something to use as a weapon, anything, and quickly ran to pick up a small fallen branch, a couple of feet long. He sprinted back to the fight, panting heavily, and waited for a few seconds until the weevil was on top until bringing the branch down in a stunning blow. Surprised by his own strength, he kept on going over and over again, until the weevil was weakened enough to be subdued.

“Thanks,” he said as the other man stood up, still catching his breath, and unsure as to why he was the one saying thank you. Wincing, he put one hand up to a pain in his neck, but there was no blood; probably just a small scratch.

“No, thank you,” the stranger said, looking down at the weevil that they’d caught. Briefly caught off guard by the American accent, Ianto turned his focus to the man. “And… you are?”

It took Ianto a few seconds to realise that he was being asked a question. “Oh, er… Jones, Ianto Jones.” He mentally kicked himself for his hesitation; he was here to make a good impression and get a job, or at least get inside the base. Not to be retconned for being a bumbling idiot.

“Ianto?”

Ianto met the man’s eyes; he was breathless, his eyes wide with disbelief, a smile cracking through onto his face.

“Ianto, Ianto Jones, you’re Ianto Jones, you’re here, you’re real, it’s, it’s you!” The man stopped suddenly, and looked at Ianto in a way that seemed to pierce through several layers of his skin. “Ianto, I’m… I’m Jack. Jack Harkness. You… you know who I am, right?”

Ianto felt like he’d been doused in ice. This couldn’t be happening; surely? After so many years of avoiding it, of being thankful that it didn’t happen, he moves back home and within a matter of days… _he’s_ here?

Everything was white noise in his ears, nothing was making sense, the world was spinning round and round and round and he was going to be sick, his head was going to explode, he couldn’t do this, not now, not ever-

“Ianto?”

The world stopped in a disturbing clarity as Ianto looked at the man’s – Jack’s – face.

“Ianto, are… are you okay? It might not be Jack Harkness, this wasn’t, er, wasn’t always my name, it could be-”

“No,” Ianto whispered, his lungs like lead. “It’s… it’s Jack Harkness. It says Jack Harkness.”

He looked at the ground, unable to look Jack in the eyes any longer.

“Ianto, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He flinched away as Jack stepped closer. “Stop… stop saying my name,” he managed to mumble out, still fixating on the torn-up grass beneath his feet.

“But I’ve wanted to say it for so long,” Jack said, keeping his distance, but Ianto could tell that he desperately wanted to come closer. “All my life I’ve been wondering what it would be like when I meet you, and now… now you’re here. And something’s wrong. I want to help, Ianto, I want to help you. It’s what I’m here for.”

Ianto raised his eye-line slowly, taking in the military boots, the RAF coat, the leather strap around Jack’s wrist, and – was that –

There were Names. Of course he had multiple Names; virtually everyone had at least a few. But he’d never seen anyone like this; all round his neck, disappearing down his sleeves, one even along the line of his little finger. This man was covered in Names, which could only mean one thing.

This was a man who couldn’t stay in love.

Was this his… his _soulmate_? Really?! Bad enough that it had to be a… well, a him, not a her, but someone like this? Someone who fell in and out of love as if it were just a passing fancy? He couldn’t be a day over thirty-five; he must have fallen in love every week of his life for this many Names.

This wasn’t right. He’d known it, all along; fate had made a mistake. This was all wrong, all very very wrong, and worse still Jack seemed to think that this was some kind of special moment? That from now on everything would be okay, they could just ride off in to the sunset together?

Even the thought was making him nauseous. He had to go, had to leave now, he couldn’t be here any longer.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, stumbling as he turned to leave. “I…” He tried to think of something suitable to say, but his mind was blank. “I like the coat,” he settled for, before getting his bearings and striding towards the exit of the park.

It was only when he was halfway home that the enormity of what had happened hit him; he’d found them, he’d found Torchwood Three. But Torchwood Three was the one person he’d never wanted to meet; Torchwood Three was Jack Harkness.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that over the next few chapters, Ianto's feelings/thoughts become clear to you guys - right now he's just a mix of confusion and angst, but he'll be doing some working through things soon :)
> 
> Most updates will not be this quick, I'm afraid!


	3. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented/left kudos! Enjoy the new chapter :)

Ianto slammed the front door shut behind him and collapsed against it, sinking down to the floor as he let the tears flow freely.

Torchwood Three was his only hope at saving Lisa, but Torchwood Three was where Jack was. Jack Harkness.

He couldn’t ignore it any longer; Jack Harkness was a real person, a real person who was expecting to one day fall in love with Ianto Jones, not just some ghost that had been haunting him since he was old enough to know that he was an outlier, that he was _different_ because of those two damn words. Jack certainly hadn’t been what he was expecting, although he’d never really given any thought to what he was expecting.

Looking up, his eyes red and swollen, he peered through the darkness of the dingy apartment to where Lisa was, still unconscious, the little light there was glinting off her limbs. He’d let her down, and she didn’t even know; she couldn’t know. If things went on as they had then it was only a matter of time before she was dead, or… the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. He had to save Lisa, he had to; she was all he had left. And if that meant facing up to Jack, then so be it.

“I’ll make this right,” he whispered, the apartment feeling emptier than it ever. “I-” _I love you_ , he thought, but the words got stuck in his throat, catching in his mouth.

Running one hand through his hair, he rubbed subconsciously against his ribs as if to feel the letters hidden underneath his shirt, burning ice cold against his skin. He wanted, no, he needed Lisa, right now, to be there and tell him that it was okay, but at the same time he couldn’t bear the thought of telling her what had happened. How would you even have that conversation? Oh, hey, I met my male soulmate today, but I still love you the most? Not something that you can easily put tactfully.

He squinted down at his watch; it was only a few hours until dawn. There was no point in sleeping, not really; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get any rest anyway. Nothing had changed, not really; he still had to save Lisa, so he still had to get into Torchwood Three. All he had to do now was persuade Jack Harkness to give him a job.

 _Jack Harkness._ Even just thinking the words and having a face, a voice, a person to attach them to was strange, and Ianto didn’t think he liked it. _Jack Harkness. Jack Harkness._

If he wanted to work at Torchwood, he would have to get close to Jack, and that would require getting used to Jack. Things that he had spent his whole life resolutely not thinking about would be brought to the forefront, and he just had to accept that.

He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. But he was going to find Jack Harkness.

Limbs stiff, he dragged himself up from the floor and stumbled blearily towards the bedroom where his laptop was on his chair. Pausing briefly to brush his lips against Lisa’s, he sat down and opened the laptop up, opening up all the necessary programs for him to access the Torchwood database.

In all the confusion surrounding the destruction of Torchwood One no one had thought to close all of their accounts, which had certainly been working in his favour, but his role as junior researcher didn’t give him enough clearance to access the kinds of files he needed to get to. He needed to find Jack but the only thing he knew about him was that he worked at Torchwood, so it was a fair assumption that where Torchwood was, Jack would be.

An hour or so of digging around, looking for any mention of Torchwood Three, gave him no clues as to the location of their base; that kind of information was only distributed on a need-to-know basis. He needed to gain more access, to somehow get past the restrictions. Using Lisa’s login was no use; she was at the same security grade as him, so could access the same amount of information, but he didn’t know anyone else’s passwords, and didn’t know anyone else well enough to guess at them.

Unless…

An idea crept into his mind. It was bad, he knew it, it was really bad, and he almost didn’t want to try it out; he didn’t want to know whether or not he was right. But he looked at Lisa, at her lying there, and knew that he had to try everything he could.

Slowly and deliberately, Ianto logged out of his account on the Torchwood network, and started to type.

_Username: Jack Harkness_

_Password:_

It was a funny thing, people’s passwords. People never chose things that were publically associated with them; they’d choose something relatively personal, that they didn’t think anyone would guess. The kind of person who worked for Torchwood would probably choose something that they would never forget, that didn’t reveal much about them, but something that most of their colleagues would think inconsequential. Something they wouldn’t think of.

Barely breathing, Ianto typed again.

_Password: IantoJones_

It didn’t match, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief despite failing to get in. He had two more goes until the system locked him – and Jack – out permanently until Jack could get someone else to log them back in.

Not knowing anything else about Jack, it was impossible to guess at another password; ideally, of course, everyone at Torchwood was just supposed to use a random string of numbers, but the system logged you out too regularly for that to be efficient. His only shot was to keep trying at variations of his name; worst comes to the worst, Jack was logged out of his computer. It was a fairly failsafe plan.

_Password: Ianto_Jones_

Still no match. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ianto sighed heavily, thinking. Some numbers in there, maybe? But what would the numbers be? He had no idea what Jack’s date of birth was and there was no way Jack could know his (was there?). The alternative, of course, was what everyone did when they were told they had to have numbers in their password.

_Password: IantoJones123_

To Ianto’s complete and utter amazement, he was in. He’d made it; he had access to Torchwood Three’s database – full access, by the looks of it. The username came up as ‘Captain Jack Harkness’ – which explained the coat – and it seemed that he had access to all areas of the database. That was good, Ianto told himself; if Jack was already in charge, it gave him a better chance of getting in.

Lisa lay motionless on the bed as always as Ianto hunted through to find details of the location of Torchwood Three. He didn’t have much time; it was only a matter of time before Jack was alerted to a login from another location and he was forced back out.

As he looked through the options at the top of the screen, searching for something that would give him some clue as to Torchwood’s location, he couldn’t help but linger over the _Personnel_ button. It would be so easy, he thought, to just open up Jack Harkness’s file and read about his life. _Save it for later_ , he told himself, as he searched through the most recently filed reports.

He didn’t have to go back very far before he found something that caught his eye: _Updated Emergency Evacuation Procedures_. As expected, there was a diagram of the ‘Hub’, as it was called, and a worryingly helpful map, showing the exact location of the Hub in Cardiff Bay.

Bingo.

* * *

 

Jack shrugged on his coat as he made his way up to the tourist office that served as the front entrance to Torchwood. He didn’t have the energy for his usual dramatics, rising up alongside the water tower to make a grand entrance; he had things to do, places to be, and any spare moment would give him time to think.

He’d thought that, once he met Ianto, his life would change. In one instant, everything would start to make sense; he’d finally be with the person he was meant to be with, his life would have meaning – real meaning, once again.

Instead he just felt empty.

Love had never been something he’d struggled to find, and he’d never made a secret of that. He’d fallen in love more than enough times to know what it felt like, but he’d always hoped that maybe with Ianto, it would be different somehow, it would be better. In all the thousand scenarios he’d imagined for their first meeting, Ianto running away wasn’t one of them. He didn’t know what had gone wrong (although he knew that if he stopped to think about it he could come up with more than a few). Protocol and etiquette were things that Jack only concerned himself with when it suited, and he felt like right now might be one of those times. He couldn’t just blunder in and do something stupid; he had to work out what was wrong and fix it.

He stopped, startled, as soon as he stepped out, jolted out of his thoughts. There was someone standing there, someone familiar, and it took him a second to place –

It was Ianto.

Ianto was here, he’d come to find him, he was – was he holding a mug of coffee?

“Coffee?” Ianto breathed out, clearly intending to appear nonchalant and casual.

Jack stood there for a second, gaping. He eventually stammered out, “Hi,” hating that it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

He wordlessly took the mug of coffee that Ianto was holding, sipping it.

“It’s good,” he nodded, not sure what to say. “How did you… never mind. What exactly are you doing here?”

He knew what he wanted the answer to be; he also somehow knew that it wasn’t the answer he was going to get.

“Can I have a job?” Ianto blurted out, before immediately becoming bright red and flustered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come out with it like that, I just… had to be honest.”

 _Interesting word choice_ , Jack thought. He smiled wryly. “Not gonna happen, I’m afraid.” He wanted to walk off, he really did, but he couldn’t just leave Ianto here. Not when he was looking at him like that.

“Please,” Ianto said, the panic starting to show. “I worked in Torchwood One, I know what I’m doing. I’ll do anything, I’ll just clean and make the tea. But please give me a chance.”

“You went missing,” Jack said, ignoring Ianto’s speech.

Ianto spluttered in shock. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I know you worked for Torchwood One,” Jack said, keeping his voice level. “I saw your name on the list of people missing after the battle at Canary Wharf. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.” He paused, hating his own robotic delivery of the facts. “And now you’re here, asking for a job. So, no. You can’t have one.”

“How about a trial period?” Ianto followed Jack as he started to walk along the decking. “Three months? Three weeks. Three days! I’ll work for free!”

Jack turned quickly, making Ianto jump. “Why do you want to work for me?!” he exclaimed, cursing himself as Ianto jumped. “Just a few hours ago you couldn’t stand the sight of me, and now you want me to be your boss? What’s really going on here?”

He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as Ianto’s face fell. He hadn’t meant to upset Ianto; that was the last thing he wanted, but centuries of waiting was catching up with him and he was running out of patience.

“I don’t have a place outside Torchwood,” Ianto explained, downcast. “I came back to Cardiff because… well, I had a girlfriend. Lisa. And she, well, she didn’t make it. At Canary Wharf. And I needed a fresh start.”

 _That explains it_ , Jack thought, trying not to look relieved. Of course Ianto had panicked when they met; he was mourning someone else, someone he had loved, and it was all so recent. Anyone would freak out if they met their soulmate straight after that.

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, hesitantly putting a hand on Ianto’s shoulder and relaxing internally when it wasn’t immediately shrugged off. “I… I didn’t know. But I can’t give you a job, Ianto. We’re not hiring, and besides, I couldn’t be your boss.” He wanted to say more, so much more, but now was not the time for sentiment. It was never the time for sentiment.

He handed the mug back to Ianto and walked off before he said something he’d regret.


	4. Myfanwy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real struggle to write so I ended up rushing through the first part in order to get to the story - after all, we all know what happened!
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who had left kudos/subscribed/bookmarked/commented. Keep them coming!

Ianto didn’t believe in fate, and if he did, it wasn’t something he put his faith in. After all, fate had made a mistake with him. Hadn’t it?

If he couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Jack’s hand on his shoulder, the weight and the comfort of it, then it was just because it was an odd thing to do with someone you barely know.

Lots of people had ridiculous and outlandish stories for meeting their soulmates; odd twists of fate, coincidences, that had led to bumping into the perfect person at the perfect time. Ianto would always scoff and roll his eyes, ignoring that Lisa would look like it was something that she wanted, and never, ever admitting to himself that deep down, that was what he wanted, too. The quirkiness of chaos, the random events that threw two people together.

Even if he had believed in fate, even if he had been hoping for that whirlwind of strange events, he never could have predicted what would happen.

He was in a suit. He’d had a job interview; after all, stalking Torchwood won’t pay the rent or put food on the table. He’d been walking home the long way round. Where he lived didn’t feel like home – whether it was the darkness, the emptiness, or the fact that every time he looked at Lisa he was filled with guilt because _Jack_. And he couldn’t work out who was making him feel guilty, who he was being unfaithful to.

People made it work with people who weren’t their soulmates all the time, so why was he finding it so hard? Why was Jack the only thing he could think about day in, day out, as much as he tried to deny it?

Looking back, he wouldn’t be able to really tell you what happened. There was a pterodactyl involved, which would sound crazy to anyone who hadn’t worked with Torchwood, but that’s what happened. An overheard police conversation, a flash of his old Torchwood ID card, and he had been given authority over the situation. He didn’t know how he’d managed to find Jack; he’d just stepped into the street and Jack was there.

Just a coincidence. Nothing more.

Working alongside Jack was exhilarating, and Ianto couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… alive. They moved in perfect synchronicity, each being exactly where they needed to be, almost not needing to communicate, and Ianto was almost smiling until –

Until everything stopped. He could only hear white noise, only see Jack’s face inches away from his own, only feel the heat of Jack’s body under him. He stood up as quickly as his body would allow him, ignoring his dizziness to stumble towards the exit, mumbling excuses. He vaguely registered Jack telling him to start work, to be there first thing in the morning, but he kept going, shuffling, bewildered, out of the warehouse.

It wasn’t until he got home that he realised that the thought of Lisa hadn’t even crossed his mind; what she would think, how she would feel, or even that he could help her now he could get inside Torchwood. All he’d been able to think about were six words, cycling round his head at infinite speeds.

“By the way - love the suit.”

* * *

 

“Good morning, Ianto.” Jack was standing outside the entrance to the Torchwood Hub at quarter to nine that morning, clearly waiting for Ianto. “I thought I’d better meet you out here. Show you around, give you a feel for the place. Shall we?”

Ianto nervously tugged on the ends of his jacket as he nodded wordlessly, following Jack through the entrance to the tourist office.

“This is where you’ll be most of the time,” Jack explained, going behind the desk to show Ianto what was there. “Your main job is as general security; monitoring who comes in and out of the hub and any suspicious activity in the area, using the CCTV here. This button here,” he pressed a red button that was hidden under the desk, “opens up the entrance to the hub.”

The wall to Ianto’s left opened up on cue, and he couldn’t help but feel foolish as he gasped.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it!” Jack chuckled, watching Ianto’s reaction intently. “Much more underground than Torchwood One – literally. Now, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you the Hub.”

Ianto looked around in awe as he stepped into the Hub; while it wasn’t as big as the base in London, it was open, characterful, and surprisingly light. He spotted the base of the water tower right away, and laughed slightly as he realised that the odd noise was screeching from the pterodactyl that he and jack had caught yesterday.

It took him a few seconds to realise that Jack had stopped, waiting for him to finish taking in his surroundings. He stammered awkwardly as he met Jack’s eyes, unable to decipher what he saw in them.

Jack smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his words weighted with something Ianto couldn’t identify. “I’ll give you a quick tour – obviously computers are here, and you should be able to use the same username and password that you had before. Down there is the autopsy bay, along that corridor and down those stairs will take you to the archives, and just in the corner there is the kitchen – very important, as it’s where the coffee machine is. Again, archiving things will come down to you, so you should familiarise yourself with the system. I would walk you through it, but I have no idea what is going on down there; shouldn’t be too hard, as long as you know your alphabet.”

He was cut off by a sirening sound which Ianto hadn’t even registered when he’d first come in as the doors opened and two women walked through, close enough together that they were clearly amiable but far enough apart that arriving at the same time was probably coincidental.

“Ah, Ianto, meet your new coworkers!” Jack indicated towards the two women. “This is Tosh and Suzie. Ladies, this is Ianto. He’s new security, archivist, and coffee-maker.”

Ianto gave his best attempt at a smile and stuck his hand out to shake. “Hi, I’m, er, Ianto. As Jack said. Nice to meet you.”

The small Japanese lady on the left beamed at him, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m Tosh,” she said, still smiling, before adjusting her shirt slightly to cover up the _Harper_ that was visible on her neckline. “It’s lovely to have a fresh face around! Welcome to Torchwood.”

The other woman – Suzie – shook his hand as well, but her face was expressionless as she sized him up. “Well, Jack, I can see why you chose this one,” she said, smirking as she looked Ianto up and down.

Jack cleared his throat. “Thank you, Suzie, for your input. Have either of you seen Owen around?”

Ianto didn’t miss how Tosh’s face twitched ever so slightly at the mention of Owen. “I think he, er, went out last night,” she said, adjusting her jacket. “He’ll probably come in late and hungover.”

“I’m not late!” A voice came from a bench against the wall, making Ianto jump – although the others all seemed unfazed. “And I’m only a little bit hungover. But I’m definitely not late – I slept here, see. So I wouldn’t be late.”

A man emerged from underneath his coat, wearing a scruffy white t-shirt and jeans. He blinked blearily in the light, wincing slightly as he stood up. He stood there for a few seconds, taking in the motley crew standing before him. Ianto clearly saw him counting under his breath, confused, before realisation seemed to dawn on his face.

“You must be Jack’s new boytoy,” he said indifferently, giving Ianto a withering look. “Although, Jack, you’ve never brought one here in work hours before. You’re slipping.”

“He’s not my boytoy,” Jack snapped. “Owen, this is Ianto, he works here now. Ianto, this is Owen, our resident doctor. Feel free to go to him with any health issues or questions, although it’s probably worth making sure he’s completely sober first.” Clapping his hands together, Jack turned back to Ianto. “Okay everyone, to work! Oh, and don’t mind the pterodactyl, although I recommend that you hide any chocolate that you’re particularly attached to. Ianto, my office.”

Walking down to the Bay this morning, Ianto had had no idea what to expect, but whatever it was he thought he’d find, it certainly wasn’t this. He followed Jack up to his office, stubbornly ignoring the three pairs of eyes that followed him, focussing only on his and Jack’s footsteps.

He shut the office door behind him, sitting down opposite Jack at the desk as indicated. He started slightly as he looked at Jack; he’d taken his coat off and rolled his sleeves up, not unusual given the heat of the room. But there’s a big difference between knowing that your Name is written there, somewhere, and seeing it, plain as day, in stark contrast to the countless others that covered Jack’s skin.

_Ianto Jones._

“So, first things first,” Jack said, leaning forward slightly onto the desk, oblivious to Ianto’s discomfort. “Any questions about the job?”

Ianto shook his head. “No, I think I’ve got the gist of it – archiving, security and coffee runs. I think I can handle that.” He gave a smile that was more like a grimace, trying to prove that he was genuine in his words.

“Good,” Jack nodded. “Okay, so the… other matter of business. That is, you and me.”

He waited for Ianto to slowly nod his understanding.

Jack sighed. “You have probably gathered, from the conversation downstairs and from…” he looked down for a moment at his arms, at his own skin, “that I have a reputation. And not an unfounded one. I just want you to know that, especially given your recent loss, this is all entirely up to you. I will flirt; I flirt with everyone, with everything. It’s who I am. But I will not initiate anything, or imply anything. Partly as your boss, partly because of our very different situations, that needs to come from you. Is that clear?”

Ianto swallowed audible, both eased and discomforted by the intensity of Jack’s speech. Not breaking the eye contact, he nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, Sir.”

Jack gave a crooked half-smile. “Sir?”

Blushing, Ianto stammered out, “Well, you’re my boss now. But I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

He was surprised when Jack laughed. “Uncomfortable? No, I like it. Perhaps a little _too_ much.”

Ianto found himself suppressing a chuckle despite himself, making a mental note to always call Jack ‘Sir’.

“That brings me to the next thing,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. “I know that _this_ ,” he indicated his bare skin, “is alarming, and off-putting, and I know that it will never be… well, good. But just know that I’m old. Much older than I look; I, er, don’t age, you see. Still not entirely sure why. But these Names have not been accumulated over twenty-odd years.”

“I assumed thirty-odd,” Ianto interrupted.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Watch it,” he said, his eyes laughing. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that. I thought it was… important.”

Ianto nodded, realising how important it was to Jack that he know this.

“So… how old are you, exactly?” He asked tentatively.

Jack faked a look of shock, putting one hand to his chest dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “The cheek! I wouldn’t let you know that until at _least_ the second date! Who do you take me for, some kind of _floozy_?!”

Unable to hold back his laughter, Ianto snorted loudly as Jack’s dramatics, realising as Jack relaxed that that was Jack’s intention; perhaps he hadn’t been so oblivious to his earlier discomfort after all.

“I should probably get to work,” he said resignedly, realising that he didn’t really want to have to become Jack’s employee.

Jack nodded as Ianto opened the office door and went to go back out to the corridor. “Oh, there was one more thing,” he called after him.

Ianto turned back to look at him, still holding the door. “Yes, Sir?”

“I was thinking that you should name the pterodactyl,” Jack said. “Seeing as you helped catch her.”

Ianto thought for a moment, listening to the pterodactyl’s screeches filling the Hub. “Myfanwy,” he said, smiling at Jack, before making his way back through the Hub and to the tourist office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please, please do leave a comment - it really does help, even if it's just a couple of words!


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who left kudos or commented on the last chapter! Keep them coming - every review speeds up the writing a little bit!
> 
> Apologies for this being short and taking a while - life's getting pretty hectic at the moment, so updates will be fairly irregular for a bit!

“You do know that I wouldn’t have actually shot you, right?”

Ianto didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. He stayed as he was, motionless where he sat opposite Jack.

“Ianto, talk to me. I want to help, really, I do. But I can’t do that, not when you won’t tell me things, not when you won’t let me in.”

“Don’t bother lying,” Ianto muttered under his breath, not lifting his gaze up from his lap. He really, really did not have the energy for this right now; he wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and let the world go on around him.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not lying to you,” he said, clearly personally offended. “I want to be there for you, I want to help. Yes, you… made a mistake. And a big one. But you’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last.” He sighed heavily, putting his head in his hands. “I should have noticed, I should have seen that something was wrong, and for that I’m sorry; I should have been paying more attention, I should have made more of an effort.”

Ianto shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s okay,” he said, flatly, still not lifting his gaze. Meeting Jack’s eyes would be too painful right now. “I understand. It’s easier, isn’t it? Not paying attention to me, just letting me get on in the background. That way you don’t have to think about things, that way I don’t have to mean anything.”

Jack’s hand shot forward before pausing, hovering a few centimetres above Ianto’s sleeve, before slowly resting on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “You’re right. Please, Ianto, tell me what to do. Tell me how I can help! I mean, I’ve learnt more about you in the last three days than I have in the six months that you’ve worked here.” _Six months, three weeks and a day_ , Ianto’s brain unhelpfully supplied.

Ianto sat there in silence, tensing under Jack’s touch. He’d been naïve and stupid, he knew that, but admitting it to Jack? That was something else entirely. How did he ever think that he’d be able to actually help Lisa? And what about afterwards? What did he think was going to happen? That he would just leave Torchwood, leave Jack, and they could get on with their lives? Or that he’d stay here, looking at Jack every day, but always go home to Lisa?

He took a deep breath. “You would have shot me,” he said, his voice hollow. “You were angry. I’ve never seen you so angry. But I wouldn’t have blamed you, not at all; after the way I’ve treated you, the way I’ve treated all of you. Keeping Lisa here, right under your nose, it wasn’t fair on anyone.” He paused, before whispering, “Especially not Lisa.”

Jack slowly moved his hand so that he was holding Ianto’s, gripping it reassuringly. “Tell me about her,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Ianto’s face.

A smile gently grew on Ianto’s face; the first in days. He lifted his head up to meet Jack’s gaze, and there was a remnant of a sparkle in his eyes. “She was… she was like no one I’d ever met before. She could be rough, and course, and snippy, but underneath all that was a heart of gold. And she was strong, with extra strength left over for me. I needed it, and I don’t know what I would have done without her. And God, she was so beautiful, I just wish you could have met her. Properly, you know? She had such a presence so you always knew when she was in the room, and she was so, so intelligent. Her mind was… it was brilliant. She could glance at a page of formulae and tell you the answer, she’d do experiments with the orange juice over breakfast. Although,” he paused as he laughed sadly, thinking of the memory, “she wasn’t the most practical. She once tried to build a machine that made my coffee exactly as I liked it – I just came down one morning to see coffee dripping off the ceiling, a singed counter-top and a grumpy-looking Lisa covered in coffee grinds. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it had already been invented, that it was called an espresso machine.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile as Ianto’s face lit up. He’d never seen him smile like this, never seen him look so relaxed and happy. He didn’t even mind that Ianto clearly only felt this way when talking about Lisa; whatever made Ianto happy.

“She sounds brilliant,” he said softly, managing to keep the sadness out of his voice.

Ianto nodded. “She really was. And I – I loved her, you know? She was the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”

It took a second for this to sink in for Jack; did this mean that Lisa’s Name was the only one that Ianto had apart from his own? No wonder he’d reacted the way he did when he saw Jack’s skin.

Ianto continued, wiping away his tears with his free hand. “I wish I’d told her more often, you know? That I loved her. I haven’t actually told her that in… in months.” _Six months, four weeks exactly_ , his brain once again supplied.

He cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with Jack. “I’m not angry about what happened; at least, not angry at you, or anyone else. It was my own fault. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me now, after what I’ve done. I was so… so selfish.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, before saying hollowly, “Lisa’s gone. She’s been gone for months, and I was too bloody desperate to admit it. I needed her, more than she ever needed me, and now she’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

Jack leant forward as Ianto’s face crumpled into tears, taking both of Ianto’s hands in his own.

“It will be okay,” he stated, enunciating each syllable clearly. “I know it seems rough right now, but it will be okay, I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise you.”

How had he let this happen? How had Ianto been hurting for so long without him noticing? He’d spent so long focussing on giving Ianto space, on not crowding him, on just being his boss and nothing else, trying to pretend that he didn’t notice him, that he’d never looked for long enough to see what was wrong. He had a responsibility now, a responsibility to fix things; he’d never admit it out loud, but he knew that he was as much to blame for what happened to Lisa as Ianto was.

Ianto looked up once more, his eyes widening as they met Jack’s. “You – you do? You promise?”

Jack nodded once, bringing one hand up to cup Ianto’s cheek. “I will always promise,” he whispered, and as Ianto’s eyes opened impossibly wider, his breath shortening, he leant swiftly in until their lips brushed together.

It was strange, Jack thought, how he’d kissed so many people in his life but none of them felt like this. Never had a kiss held so much intensity, so much pent-up passion, but still been so perfect, so serene, so still.

By the time Jack had registered what was happening, what he’d done, it was over. For a few precious moments everything had stopped, before Ianto suddenly pulled away.

“No, Jack,” he said, shaking his head, his hands shaking. “No, this is… this isn’t supposed to be happening. I can’t… How could you? Lisa’s been gone a matter of days! I thought…” He stood up angrily, clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I have to go, I have to leave, right now. I can’t… I can’t be around you right now, I’m sorry. I’ll be back tomorrow, back to fetching your coffee and cleaning up after you. Pretending I actually got this job on my own merit, that sort of thing. And who knows, I might… I might not even wear a suit! I might wear something different, like I did before I met you, which, by the way, was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth that he regretted them; that wasn’t what he meant to say, it wasn’t what he meant to say at all. He meant to say that he was sorry, that he wanted to so, so badly, that every day it was harder to resist, but every time he let that kind of thought into his head it was pushed out by guilt, by Lisa’s face, by the taunts from school, by his father’s voice, heard only from eavesdropping in the middle of the night.

_Where did we go wrong, huh? How did we end up with a bloody poof for a son?_

He couldn’t stay here a moment longer; he had to get out, he had to breathe, he had to find a space in his head that was safe. Tearing his eyes away from Jack, the brilliant Jack, who was sitting there looking so bewildered and confused and so damn _kissable_ , he stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

“Ianto -” Jack called, desperate to make things right, but he was ignored.

 _Serves me right_ , he thought, putting his head into his hands in despair. _What have I done?_

And if, a couple of weeks later, they were setting up camp when Ianto, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, said that the last person he had kissed was Lisa, Jack didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place. All he could do now was wait; wait and pretend.


	6. Stopwatches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 17/03/16, typing error. Whoops!

Ianto was almost surprised that he barely mourned Lisa.

It didn’t take him long to realise that really, he’d known for a long time that she was gone; he’d done all of his grieving, he’d come to terms with what happened. No, what he was grieving for now was an idea, a concept; the thought of Lisa, not the reality of her.

Lisa had been a sort of barrier in his mind. Thinking of her, lying there in the basement, was almost enough to keep him focussed and to block out any thoughts of Jack as anything more than his boss. Now that she was gone, though, he was finding it impossible. If anything, he and Jack had had an even more strictly-professional relationship in the past few weeks since The Kiss (as Ianto had taken to referring to it in his head), but it wasn’t enough anymore. Every time he looked at Jack his heart skipped a beat, every time they so much as brushed against each other his stomach dropped. Jack was the first thing he thought about when he woke up, the last thing that came into his head before he fell asleep; even his dreams were filled with Jack’s face, Jack’s voice.

There was no denying that he found Jack attractive – even from a purely objective point of view, he knew that Jack was a very good-looking man. It was just a fact; everyone knew it, and no one more than Jack himself. But knowing that rationally didn’t stop him from blushing every time Jack stretched a certain way, or winked after yet another innuendo.

He didn’t actually _like_ Jack; he was too crass, too rude, too ungrateful. Whenever he spent more than a few minutes with Jack he had to hold back the urge to blow up at him, to get angry, whether it was side comments about the coffee not being as good as normal or name-dropping his various conquests. He could cope with the flirting, especially having been forewarned, but he couldn’t help but get riled up when Jack flirted with anyone else; almost as if he was trying to prove a point.

The one exception, of course, was Gwen. Of course Jack flirted with her; he took his flirting to a whole other level when Gwen was around, and you could cut the tension with a knife whenever the two of them were in the same room together. Somehow, though, Ianto knew that nothing would ever _really_ happen. Apart from anything else, Jack seemed to like having Gwen around, and she certainly fit into the team; Jack would never make a move if he thought it would jeopardise that.

Despite telling himself that he didn’t like Jack, however, Ianto couldn’t stop thinking about him. He would wake up in the middle of the night with his mind filled with images of what Jack’s skin looked like under his shirt, covered in Names, or he’d find himself taking a moment whenever he passed Jack to breathe in his scent – something he would never admit out loud, of course.

 _Damn fifty-first century pheromones_ , he thought on those occasions.

With each passing day, things got a little bit more out of control. He’d find himself zoning out while talking to people because he was busy thinking about how stupidly perfect Jack’s hair was, or how annoying it was when he just bossed everyone around. He wasn’t sure if he was just more attuned to it or if there was an actual change, but he could have sworn that Jack had cottoned on and was doing it on purpose. He was sure that Jack never used to tell him how good he looked in a suit this regularly, and at least twice a day he’d have a stupid excuse to come and visit Ianto, just to stand there awkwardly before making a lewd comment about something completely innocent and just walking away. Jack would find reasons to stand unusually close to Ianto, or would constantly have tasks that only Ianto could help with, feigning excuses for not accepting help from anyone else.

For a while Ianto wasn’t completely certain that he wasn’t just imagining things, until one day when he went to give Jack his coffee. It was part of the routine each day; tea and coffee were given to everyone who was in the Hub at eleven o’clock and four o’clock. Jack first, on the hour, and then Tosh, Gwen and Owen, before Ianto settled down with his own. Every single day, at eleven o’clock and four o’clock exactly, he’d knock on Jack’s door and be met with a “Come in, Ianto.” He’d go in, give Jack his coffee with a “Here’s your coffee, sir,” which would be followed by either a crude comment and a wink or just a smile, depending on Jack’s mood.

It was odd, therefore, when Ianto knocked on the door one morning and heard something different.

“Who is it?”

An odd question, surely? After all, Ianto came at this time every day, and besides, Jack knew everyone in the base very well by now; what would he be doing that he only wanted certain people to see?

“It’s, um, Ianto,” he stammered out, confused. “I’ve got your coffee, sir.”

He heard movement from inside Jack’s office for a few seconds, before quiet. “Of course, come on in Ianto.”

Ianto pushed the door open before jumping back in alarm. Jack was completely shirtless, doing pull-ups in a corner of his office. It took Ianto a few seconds to realise that the crashing noise he’d heard was the mug of coffee that he’d dropped.

“Hey there,” Jack said, looking smug, keeping up his rhythm. “You caught me mid-workout! Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean it up if you just want to get another one.”

Ianto didn’t trust himself to speak so just nodded, desperately trying (and failing) to look anywhere but at Jack.

Jack lowered himself down from the gym equipment, which Ianto couldn’t remember having ever seen before in here, and took a few steps towards the door where Ianto was standing.

“You okay? You look a bit startled,” he smirked.

 _You bastard_ , Ianto thought, but he stammered out “I’m, er, fine, yeah, thanks.”

Jack raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Shouldn’t you be getting more coffee?”

God damn it, how did he manage to make even that sound dirty?!

“I’m on it, _sir_ ,” Ianto replied, putting just enough emphasis on the ‘sir’ to make Jack look vaguely impressed. _Two can play at that game,_ he thought to himself as he headed back down to the coffee machine.

He took a few deep breaths once he’d set the coffee machine running again, desperately trying to calm down and get his face to return to its usual colour.

Seeing Jack shirtless like that was odd, to say the least. There was his own Name, bold as brass, proudly proclaiming to the world that Jack Harkness’ soulmate was Ianto Jones, but the rest of his body was covered in what looked like hundreds of others. He’d thought that he might be more jealous, but especially now that he knew exactly how old Jack was, especially now that he knew the kind of person Jack was.

There was something so tender and vulnerable about seeing a person’s entire history written all over their body that had drawn Ianto in. People usually preferred privacy when it came to disclosing their Names, and Jack was usually no different, but the way he’d just shown himself off like that, for Ianto…

Ianto wasn’t daft. He knew that Jack had posed the whole thing to get his attention – Jack hadn’t even broken into a sweat in his ‘workout’. It had worked, though, as of course Jack knew it would. All Ianto could think about was spending hours mapping the letters and patterns of Jack’s skin, memorising each and every word and learning all of their stories until he knew them all by heart, until he could say that he, perhaps he alone of anyone, _knew_ Jack.

There was no point in putting it off any longer; it would only lead to even more ridiculous and embarrassing scenarios like the one that had just happened. It was clear that they both wanted it; now it was up to him to make it happen.

Making it happen. Easier said than done, of course. After all, how do you go up to your soulmate, who you’ve continually ignored for well over six months now, and say _Hey, I totally want to sleep with you, but no strings attached. That good with you? Brilliant. How’s Thursday night?_

He sighed, thinking through his actions. _Jack manages to make everything sound dirty_ , he thought. _Maybe… maybe I could just say something. Anything. Make Jack say it in a dirty way. But like it was my idea. Yeah, that would work. That way I wouldn’t have to say anything, but he’d still get the hint._

But what to say? A passing comment, a compliment, a gift? It wouldn’t have to be much; it didn’t really take much to get Jack thinking along the lines that Ianto wanted him to be thinking on. But it had to be something… well, something unusual. Something you wouldn’t usually think of, in any situation.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the timer going to say that the coffee was ready.

 _Hmm_ , he thought, taking the mug back up to Jack and hoping that he’d put more clothes on, not taken more off. _Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch…_

* * *

 

“So, you up for round two?”

Ianto turned his head to look at Jack, trying to hide how out of breath he was. “In a few minutes. That was… intense.”

Jack laughed, propping his head up with one hand, his elbow on the pillow. “Glad to hear it. What can I say, I always aim to please.”

“You definitely achieved that,” Ianto smiled. “What about…” _Shut up_ , came a snappy voice in my head. _You’ll sound like a seventeen-year-old virgin. Be cool._ He suddenly felt awkward, unsure, pulling the sheet up to cover him to his waist, averting his eyes.

After a few seconds he felt Jack’s arm wrap around his torso, his fingers tracing the letters on his ribcage. He followed the shapes in his mind, one by one. _J. A. C. K. H._

“It was pretty damn awesome for me too, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jack said, leaning back down so that he could lie close to Ianto. He started pressing slow, deliberate kisses against Ianto’s neck; not tender or caring, but strong and suggestive.

Ianto rolled over onto his side so he was facing Jack. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the muscles beneath his skin, before running his fingers slowly down Jack’s arm, making sure to touch every Name on the way.

“You’re quite the work of art,” he said under his breath, intent on studying every letter and character. “I want to learn every single one, eventually.”

“Even the ones below the waist?”

Pausing in his study, Ianto brought his eyes up to meet Jack’s. “Especially the ones below the waist,” he smirked, reaching up to meet Jack’s lips in a fierce kiss.

“So,” Jack said between kisses, shifting them both so Ianto was above him, “this is going to be a,” his hands wandered further down Ianto’s back, “continuous thing then? Because I am more than okay than that.”

“Of course it is,” Ianto said quickly, carding his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Now shut up.” He threw the sheet off him and onto the floor. “It’s time for round two.”


	7. In Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback so far!
> 
> Regarding the Names in this chapter: some are taken from Torchwood canon, some are celebrities, some are characters from other fandoms and some are complete OCs.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

“Morning, Tosh!” Gwen called out, striding over to the centre of the Hub, still finishing the last few bites of her morning toast. “What’s occurring?”

“I’m good thanks,” Tosh replied, calling over her shoulder. “Not much rift activity predicted for today, should be fairly quiet.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Gwen said, checking her own computer. “I don’t suppose you know where I can find Ianto? Rhys can’t make the rugby anymore and I thought maybe Ianto might like the ticket?”

Tosh shook her head, still focussed on her computer. “He said something about going down to the archives for some filing or something, he was pretty vague about it. He should be back up soon, though, he’s been gone a while.”

“Brilliant, thanks!” Fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve, Gwen continued. “I just feel a bit bad for him, you know? After the whole Lisa thing? I mean, does he really have any friends? I can’t help but feel that we should at least try to get to know him.”

 “Certainly can’t hurt,” Tosh shrugged. “It does sound like a good idea – but do you know if he even likes rugby?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, smiling jovially. “He’s Welsh, of course he likes rugby.”

“Are you going on about bloody rugby again?” Tosh and Gwen’s heads turned to see Owen, on his way down to the autopsy bay. “It’s all you Welsh ever go on about. Anyway, have either of you seen Jack? He’s not in his office.”

Gwen shrugged. “No, sorry, I’ve just got in. He might be out?”

“I’ll just quickly check the CCTV, see if he’s in,” Tosh said, tapping on the keyboard of her computer. “Well, there’s Ianto in the arch – oh God!”

Tosh jumped backwards, eyes wide with shock as the other two rushed around to see what had caused that reaction.

“Bloody hell!” Gwen exclaimed as Owen yelled “Jesus Christ, turn it off!” He blindly hit keys on the keyboard until the grainy image left the screen.

“Well, at least now we know where Jack and Ianto are,” Gwen giggled. “You do know what this means, right?”

Owen shuddered. “It means I’m going to have to spend all of my salary for years on therapy to recover from that. There are some things that no one should ever have to see, and watching your boss do… that… to the teaboy is definitely one of them.”

“I think what Gwen is referring to,” said Tosh, her syllables measured as always, “is that we each owe her twenty pounds.”

“Hell no,” Owen said, shaking his head. “First things first, I never want to think about what I just saw. But we have no way of proving that this is the first time – it certainly looked like they were… familiar with each other. Oh God, I’ll never be able to un-see that.” He pressed his hands to his eyes as if to try and rub the image from them. “Regardless, if they’ve been at this for more than two weeks than _I’ve_ won the bet and you each owe _me_ twenty quid. That’s the rules.”

Gwen cleared her throat. “Well, Owen, if you want to prove that they’ve been at it for two weeks then feel free to go back through the CCTV footage and find evidence. But until then…”

Owen had never been so fast to hand over a twenty-pound note.

* * *

 

“Do you reckon the others know?” Ianto asked as he buttoned up his shirt.

Jack shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Ianto looked down sheepishly. “Well, you know… this is all quite new to me. Plus it’s not really their business, and it’s not like this really is anything.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“Nothing, really. Forget I said anything.” Ianto focussed on retying his tie, his fingers getting in a muddle.

Jack sighed. “Here, let me do it.” He stepped forwards, closer than he really needed to be, putting his hands over Ianto’s. He leant forwards, his lips by Ianto’s ear as he whispered, “Still staying late tonight?” He slipped one hand under Ianto’s shirt as he spoke, his fingers tracing his waistband.

“I’d just tucked that in,” Ianto said, mock-chastising Jack. He put his hands on Jack’s chest where his shirt was still unbuttoned, tracing the shapes of the countless letters covering Jack’s skin. “I’m intrigued about this one,” he said, letting his fingertips linger over it. “I’ve never seen these characters before, what language is it?”

Jack looked down to see the Name that Ianto was referring to. “Oh, of course; I always forget that it doesn’t appear in English to everyone else. TARDIS thing, automatic translation; it’s how I knew what you were saying when you were yelling in Welsh last night.” Ianto blushed. “There isn’t really a human way of pronouncing their name; their race had a very different communication system from ours. They came through from the rift in the fifties and we were together basically from then until they went back to their own planet. Very different race from our own; no opposite genders, for one thing.”

“I think I followed that,” Ianto said. “What do you mean about the translation thing, though? How on earth do you build a relationship with someone if you can’t understand them, can’t even imitate their language?”

“The TARDIS is a ship that travels through time and space,” Jack explained, and Ianto immediately knew from the way that his eyes lit up that there was more to this story than he was willing to say right now. “Anyone who’s travelled in the TARDIS is automatically able to communicate in any language. Pretty neat, huh?”

* * *

 

Something about being given one tiny glimmer into Jack’s past made Ianto instantly desperate for more, but he waited until they were next alone together. There was something so wonderfully refreshing about slowly unravelling this enigma, discovering who this mysterious man really was.

His next chance came that evening, a few hours after Jack had started stripping off before the door had even finished shutting behind Tosh.

“Tell me about…” Ianto ran his hand slowly down Jack’s side as he lay facing him. “Lucia Moretti.” He gently ran his thumb over the letters where they were marked on Jack’s hip.

Jack sighed heavily, staring into space over Ianto’s shoulder. “Nineteen-seventy-five we got together. She worked at Torchwood as well, and it didn’t take long for us to get together. It was good, to start with, and we moved in together and everything. She left, though, two years later, and that was that.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Left? You don’t just leave Torchwood, what happened?” He could tell from the hitch in Jack’s breath that this was unchartered territory; something that Jack had never told anyone about, that still made him emotional thirty years on. He quickly amended, “You don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to.”

He watched as Jack’s eyes slowly lowered to his chest, the words _Jack Harkness_ emblazoned there, only for Jack’s eyes. “No, it’s okay,” he said after a few seconds of deep thought. “We, um, we had a daughter. Lucia didn’t think that I was father material, and that was that.”

Ianto mentally chided himself for being so shocked. He shouldn’t be surprised, especially given Jack’s age and his past, that Jack had a child – or, more likely, children – but that didn’t soften the blow. The thought that Jack, that his soulmate, might have a child older than he was… It was sometimes easy to forget quite how old Jack was, but there were times, like this, when it was painfully obvious.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually stammered out, unsure how he was feeling. “I didn’t know. Do you, er, do you still keep in touch?” What do you say in these situations?!

“Sometimes,” Jack said shortly, and Ianto knew that that was all he was going to get for this story. Jack lifted a hand up to Ianto’s face, brushing his hair out of his eyes and smiling sadly. “Go on, choose another one. I know you want to! And don’t worry, most of them are more cheerful than that one.”

Ianto smiled mischievously. “Okay then! Let’s see… roll over. I want to see which poor sod ended up on your arse.”

“Oh, to be so lucky,” Jack laughed, rolling on to his front as Ianto pulled himself up to sit on Jack’s legs. He leant forwards slowly, kissing the top of Jack’s spine and grinning internally as Jack  twitched slightly beneath him.

“Who to choose…” he said playfully between leaving kisses on Jack’s back. “How about Bethany Collington?”

“Heiress in the eighteen-nineties, we managed to desecrate forty-four out of the fifty-three rooms in her mansion before the butler caught us.”

“Tristan Sadler?”

“Trenches, first world war. Not the happiest of tales, his soulmate was there too but never really came to terms with it. Died following his soulmate’s court-martialling. Everything felt a bit temporary back then, anyway.”

“Bloody hell Jack, life and soul of the party you are. Right, Estelle Cole. Wait, wasn’t she the fairy woman?”

Jack sighed heavily. “Yes, the was ‘the fairy woman’ as you put it. And my wife.”

Ianto wasn’t sure what to say that. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He was surprised when Jack barked out a laugh. “Ianto, I think we’re past that point now. Just get on with it; who’s next?”

“Agnetha Fältskog? What is that, Swedish?”

“Yup. One quarter of ABBA. You know how they used to be two couples but then they both divorced around the same time?”

Ianto had an awful feeling he knew where this was going. “Yes?”

“Well, Benny and Björn are there too – Benny’s on the left ankle, Björn on the right thigh. I slept with Anni-Frid as well, but just to complete the set.”

“You are impossible,” Ianto said, lifting himself up and lying back down next to Jack, pressed up against him with arm draped over Jack’s waist. “Okay, one more. How about… Samuel Ridgeworth?”

Jack didn’t reply straight away, shifting slightly so he was able to put his arm around Ianto and pull him closer, but it somehow felt different from before; as if he wanted, or needed, the comfort of having Ianto close to him.

“I met Sam in the eighties,” he said quietly, his eyes sad. “He… he got sick. It was, it was awful; watching him fade away like that…” He took a deep breath. “In the end, I was all he had left. After he got diagnosed his parents made it very clear that they wanted nothing to do with him, and, well, it was a death sentence in those days. Seeing him lying there in hospital, so weak and knowing that there was nothing I could do about it was the worst feeling in the world.”

Ianto’s breath caught in his throat as he realised what Jack was talking about. “Do you mean… was it-”

“Of course it was,” Jack interrupted coolly. “We were gay men in the nineteen-eighties, what do you think it was? And the worst part was…” He paused, clearly struggling to keep himself together. “To this day, I still don’t know whether or not it was me. Me that made him sick. Because I was positive too only it didn’t affect me, I didn’t have any symptoms and who knew how long I’d had it. It could’ve been me, Ianto, it might’ve been me that killed him.”

A few tears started to break free and Ianto manoeuvred himself as much as he could in the small space to allow him to hold Jack as he cried, rubbing his back and kissing his forehead until he calmed down again.

“I shot myself,” Jack said hollowly after a few minutes of silence. “After Sam died. I wasn’t affected but I wasn’t going to risk giving it to anyone else, ever. So I reset myself. It’s… well, it’s one of the few times that I’ve actually done that to myself. The only time, it truth be told. And I haven’t taken a single risk since. Nobody should have to go through that, not ever.”

He smiled weakly at Ianto. “I think that’s maybe enough Names for one night, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” Ianto breathed, still holding Jack close. “Jack, can I… can I ask you a question? It’s a bit of an odd one.”

“Of course,” Jack said, “Fire away.”

“Why are you here? You could be anywhere right now, doing anything you wanted. You used to travel through time, for Pete’s sake, you could be anywhere, anytime, in the whole universe. So why are you here? Why have you stayed in Cardiff for over a hundred years?”

A smile instantly broke out on Jack’s face. “I’m waiting. I’m waiting for the Doctor; the last time I saw him was the first time I died. He’ll have the answers, I know he will, and he might even be able to fix me. The things… oh Ianto, the things I saw when I was travelling with the Doctor would blow your mind. I want that again, Ianto, I want to be back adventuring and exploring the universe, but I need the Doctor to do that. He’ll have to come to Cardiff eventually, I know he will, because his ship – the TARDIS – it fuels from the rift energy, so he’ll have to come here, I know it. It’s only a matter of time but when he arrives, I’ll be ready.”

Ianto cleared his throat. “He sounds pretty incredible.”

Jack laughed loudly. “Oh, he really is. I’ve never met anyone like him.” His face fell, confused, as Ianto began to sit up and untangle himself from the bedding. “Are you… are you leaving?”

“I should probably get home,” Ianto replied, shrugging.

“Or you could stay?” Jack asked teasingly. “Who knows where the night could take us. Or the morning. And I know you keep a spare suit around, so no need to worry about that. I don’t know about you, but there’s a measuring tape on my desk that I’ve been _dying_ to put to good use. What do you say?”

Throwing himself back onto the bed, Ianto replied, “How can I argue with that?”

He leant in to kiss Jack, trying not to think too hard about whatever the hell Jack had planned with this bloody measuring tape. And as he twisted his fingers in the hair on the back of Jack’s neck, he tried not to think about the Name that was hidden there, the Name that it was clear Jack had no idea he even had, written in miniscule script right underneath his hairline.

_The Doctor._


	8. By Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments on the previous chapter! Keep them coming :)

There was something different about the way Jack had asked Ianto if he wanted to stay after work that evening. It wasn’t surprising, really; after all, it had only been a couple of hours ago that it looked like Jack might be stuck in the nineteen-forties, getting to the twenty-first century the long way round once again. But rather than the cheeky grin and wink, or even the fake-demands that always, without fail, led to a brilliant night, Jack had been quiet, inquisitive, and almost sad.

As soon as everyone had gone home for the day, Ianto padded slowly down to Jack’s office, where Jack was bent over something on a table in the corner. He jumped when Ianto wrapped his arms around him from behind and started leaving gentle, open-mouthed kisses at his neck, taking Ianto’s hands and spinning around so they were facing each other.

Ianto looked up at him, an eyebrow raised as took his hands from Jack’s to start loosening his tie. “You okay? You seem a little jumpy.”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, I guess; all things considered and all. Hey-” He put his hands over Ianto’s, where Ianto was starting to unbutton his shirt. “Could we just… later? Not right now.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Jack Harkness?” Ianto asked jokingly, but did his shirt back up all the same.

Instead of answering, Jack reached behind him to what Ianto now saw was a record player. There were a few seconds where all that could be heard was that distinctive crackling noise, before muted brass chords echoed around the room.

“Glenn Miller,” Ianto stated, impressed.

Jack turned round to smile at him, his eyes somehow looking older than the rest of his face. “Moonlight Serenade,” he said softly, holding out a hand. “Shall we?”

Nervously, unsure where this was going, Ianto put his hand in Jack’s and let himself be tugged forwards until they were standing pressed against one another, swaying slightly to the music.

“Sorry,” Jack said, laughing slightly as he rested his forehead on Ianto’s shoulder. “I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic tonight.”

Ianto hummed a response, tightening his hold on Jack. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the soft sound of the music and the feel of Jack’s body against his, and it occurred to him that, despite their shenanigans, this was the most intimate they’d ever been. He could feel Jack’s breath on the back of his neck, could feel Jack’s muscles relax in his arms. This was not a Jack that people got to see very often, and Ianto couldn’t help but feel privileged for it.

They stood there, swaying silently until long after the music ended, the crackle of the record player the only sound. Owen had been wrong, Ianto realised; what they had ran so much deeper than a part-time shag, and to his alarm, he was perfectly content with that. (None of them had said anything, but Owen had been a lot tetchier about relationships since _Diane Holmes_ had appeared around his wrist.) Yes, to all intents and purposes this was a no-strings attached, friends-with-benefits arrangement, but… well, maybe you could only go for so long sleeping with your soulmate before feelings were inevitable. There was a silent agreement between the two of them to never discuss the exact nature of their relationship, but Ianto just knew that it was slowly evolving into something more. A few months ago just the thought of having sex with another man was out of the question, but here he was, feeling more and more attached to Jack with each passing moment.

He didn’t know what happened in nineteen-forty-one, and he wasn’t going to ask, but whatever it was had clearly affected Jack deeply. This must have been the longest they’d been alone in the same room together without at least an innuendo, but the jazz chords were still echoing around and it somehow felt wrong to try and interrupt them.

Ianto couldn’t have said how long they were stood there, holding each other, basking in the other’s presence. Time had somehow come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was that they kept each other close.

Slowly, so slowly that it almost didn’t feel like he was moving at all, Ianto brushed his hand against Jack’s cheek, leaning in for a soft and tender kiss. As their lips moved against each other, neither one taking the lead, he couldn’t help but think of their first kiss, months ago, and feel how much closer they’d gotten since then.

As they kissed, Ianto slowly began to unbutton Jack’s shirt, before undoing his own. He knew that tonight, tonight would be different, tonight would define them. They weren’t fooling around anymore; this was something different, something more powerful. There was no point in denying it any longer; he had feelings for Jack, strong, deep feelings, and they were growing deeper by the day. He could only hope that, somehow, Jack felt the same way.

 _Of course he does_ , a small voice provided in his head. _You’re soulmates. You share a bond, you’re as closely connected as two people can be_.

He broke the kiss to a small “Hmph” from Jack as he slid Jack’s shirt off his shoulders, slowly leaving kisses down Jack’s neck and pausing at his collarbone as he wrapped his arms firmly around Jack’s waist. Usually it was him that ended up covered in love-bites which were hell to cover up; this time it would be Jack’s turn.

He opened his eyes and froze; something was different, Jack was different. It took a second to figure out what had changed, and when he did he couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

Jack sighed impatiently. “What’s so funny? I was enjoying that.”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto ran his fingers over the patch of Jack’s skin on the top of his shoulder. “I’m sorry, it’s just… well, only you could love yourself enough to have your own Name!”

He knew as soon as he said that something was wrong. Jack immediately froze under his hands, tensing up, barely breathing.

“What?” he breathed out, turning his head to follow Ianto’s eyeline. “I don’t understand, what do you mean, I-”

His breath hitched as he saw the new Name, written in miniscule lettering between the others. _Jack Harkness_.

“What’s wrong?” Ianto asked with trepidation, already knowing that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

Jack stepped out of his embrace, collapsing onto his chair as he ran his hands through his hair. He sat there in silence for a few seconds, clearly thinking over what he was about to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, his eyes filled with sadness. He leant forwards, arms on his knees, looking at the ground and refusing to meet Ianto’s gaze. “I didn’t… I never thought… It was just for a few seconds, a few minutes, no more than a couple of hours, but he was all I could think about, and I guess I’ve always wondered a little bit about him and then he was there and he was everything I ever look for and he was just so…”

Ianto felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over his head. “I – I don’t know what you mean. You’re not making any sense.”

Jack inhaled a shuddering breath. “Jack Harkness wasn’t always my name,” he said, still refusing to look at Ianto. “I… took it. Stole it from an officer who had died just a few days earlier. And when me and Tosh were in nineteen-forty-one… he was there. Captain Jack Harkness, the man whose identity I stole. We got talking, and we… well, we danced. And we kissed. I just couldn’t leave him without – I had to. I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it, wishing that I had. You – you understand that, don’t you?”

He finally forced himself to look at Ianto, his eyes wide, desperate to see understanding and sympathy. Ianto’s face, though, was expressionless as he processed what Jack had just told him.

Jack had… fallen in love. Or at least, the closest Jack could get to love. Just as he was beginning to hope that maybe, just maybe there might have been more to their relationship than he first thought, he was proven wrong again. He meant nothing to Jack, _they_ meant nothing to Jack.

He felt like such a fool.

“I – I need to go,” he stammered, turning away as quickly as he dared, his fingers fumbling as he tried to do up the buttons on his shirt.

Jack’s hand shot out to grab his. “Ianto please, please don’t go. Please, I’m so sorry, we can – can we talk about this? Please? Just don’t go.”

Ianto rubbed the tears out of his eyes as he heard Jack’s breath catch. Suddenly angry, he spun around to face him.

“What’s there to talk about? You – I’ll never be enough for you. I was… I was stupid to think that _this_ meant anything to you, I was stupid and naïve. I’ll just go home, and tomorrow we can pretend that this never happened, but… you fell in love, Jack! You were apart from me for, what, four hours? Five? And you moved on. And if – what if you had been stuck there? What then? You would have, what, waited another sixty years, and forgotten about me in a matter of weeks. I-” he slumped in on himself, defeated. “I’m sorry. I was… I was reading too much into this, I assumed that I meant as much to you as you meant to me. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow, early if you want, but right now I just want to go home and sleep. I’m sorry Jack.”

Before he could turn to leave, though, Jack stood up and put his hands on Ianto’s arms.

“Ianto…” He was shaking his head slightly, looking overwhelmed and bewildered underneath the tears. “Ianto, you weren’t wrong to think all those things, to think that you mean something to me. You… you mean so much to me Ianto, and I don’t know much about how this Name thing works, no one does, but I know that what I already feel for you is stronger than what I felt for many of the people whose Names I have. I slipped up and I will spend eternity making it up to you, but… please don’t go.”

Ianto wanted to believe him, he wanted to so, so much. From what Jack was saying it was just a lapse, getting caught up in the moment, and it wasn’t like they’d ever committed to each other, but a lapse of judgement that lead to falling in love, at least enough for a Name to appear? Even for Jack that was a bit far-fetched. It would be so easy to just smile, say that all was forgiven and fall right back into Jack’s arms, only… well, he wouldn’t be falling into Jack’s arms, he’d be falling into Jack’s bed.

A few weeks ago, he would have said that it didn’t make any difference, that it didn’t matter. But now it felt like the biggest and most important difference in the world.

Shaking his head, he leant forwards and gave Jack a gentle peck on the cheek. “I just – I just need some time. I just need to… remind myself of some things. That’s all.” He tried his best attempt at a smile, hoping against hope that Jack would take it, but he wasn’t even surprised when Jack continued to fight his corner; he wouldn’t admit it, but he was almost glad.

“Don’t go, Ianto,” Jack said, cupping Ianto’s cheek with one hand. “Please. You make me feel… God, Ianto, you make me feel human again! You make me feel alive, more alive than I’ve felt in decades, perhaps ever, and I know I deserve it but please, don’t… don’t _stay_ angry at me.”

“I’m not angry,” Ianto lied, trying his best to be comforting, but Jack interrupted.

“I need you, Ianto, I need you.”

Ianto froze, his eyes widening to match Jack’s. “You… you do?”

Jack nodded frantically, delighted that he was finally getting through to him. “Of course I do, Ianto… you’re my soulmate. You make me a man again, you make me mortal, I-”

“What?”

Ianto felt like the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach. He saw it the moment that Jack realised he’d said the wrong thing, but he wasn’t going to let Jack talk his way out of it, not this time.

“Is… is that all I am to you? Some sort of ticket to mortality?”

“No!” Jack exclaimed. “No, that came out wrong I-”

“Just don’t. Don’t even try to explain, Jack, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I don’t even know why I ever expected anything more from you. I think we should each decide what we want before we carry on this…” He gestured vaguely between them. “Whatever the hell this is. Goodbye, Jack.”

And before Jack could protest anymore, he turned on his heel, running towards the Hub exit as soon as he was out of Jack’s view and not stopping until he was outside, leaning out over the Bay and taking deep lungfuls of the fresh air, ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I know that this chapter raises a few questions about how this 'verse works, but I'm planning on explaining everything in the next few chapters - but feel free to ask any questions you have in the comments! Or just leave general feedback :)


	9. One Waits For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'A Million Years' by Charlene Kaye, the same song the fic title is from :)
> 
> This chapter was pretty difficult to write so I hope you enjoy it! It deviates from canon more than any of the other chapters, but in the name of more Janto I figured it was worth it :D

There were so many things that Jack wished he’d been able to say.

He wanted to say that he was sorry, that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, that he’d spend the rest of his days making it up to Ianto. He wanted to say that he hadn’t meant it, any of it, that he wished things could go back to how they were.

He wanted to say that he could feel his own betrayal, that he felt every single one of Ianto’s emotions as if they were his own, and that in that moment he knew that they had was real and tangible and surely that meant that it was working, they were soulmates, they shared that unique bond that neither of them could ever have with anyone else. That in feeling what Ianto was feeling, feeling that deep ache in his heart, he knew that what had happened had hurt Ianto more than he would ever have expected but he _understands_ because he feels it too.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to shout out all those times, all those opportunities, every moment when he let Ianto be in charge, when he gave Ianto the chance to tell him how he felt. What right did he have, getting upset, when he hadn’t made his own feelings clear in the first place?

Although it’s not like Ianto’s feelings _weren’t_ clear, no matter how much he hated talking about them.

Jack didn’t sleep that night. He knew that Ianto didn’t either. He’d hoped that, the next morning, they’d be able to talk; he’d be able to explain, they’d be able to work something out, and everything would be alright again. But that was before he saw what was happening with the Rift.

* * *

 

Lisa.

She’d been there, then she was… gone. She’d come back, if only for a matter of seconds, but it was enough; enough to tell Ianto everything he needed to know, everything he so desperately wanted to be true.

“I love you,” she’d said. “Please, set me free. Open the rift; I’ll come back to you. We can be together.”

Even after everything he’d done, everything he’d put them through, she still wanted to be with him.

 _That’s what love is_ , he couldn’t help but think, staring at the spot where she’d been just a moment earlier. _She… she chose me. Everyone in the whole world and she chose me. Not because I was there and convenient, not because some letters on her skin said so. She loves me, and she never stopped loving me._

 _And I loved her_.

“I’ll get you back,” he whispered, knowing she could hear him. “I promise, I’ll get you back. I… I love you.”

* * *

 

Knowing that Jack could die and come back unscathed and witnessing it were two very different things.

The moment Owen’s fingers pulled that trigger, Ianto felt it as if a physical force was pushing the breath out of him. He felt his pulse stop, he felt the breath leave his body just for a second; long enough to know that Jack was dead.

“Jack,” he said weakly, hating how his voice wavered, hating that everyone else was seeing him like this. “Jack, wake up. Jack, it’s time to wake up now. Please, Jack, come back to me. We can sort all of this out, all of this stupid argument, I promise, just wake up.”

He felt it the second Jack woke up; felt the warmth returning to his body, felt the lift rushing back into his own veins as strongly as he could feel Jack’s body against his. He wanted to stay there, to hold Jack and keep him close, let him know that he wasn’t alone, that everything would be alright, although he knew full well that it was more for his sake than Jack’s.

But the world was ending. No time for any of that.

* * *

 

Ianto didn’t mind that Gwen sat with Jack. If anything, he was glad of it. He didn’t want Jack to be left there, didn’t want him to wake up all alone in the cold vaults, but the thought of just… sitting with him, praying and hoping, was too much. He needed to keep busy, needed to distract himself. He’d insisted, however, on changing Jack himself; as selfish as it was, he didn’t want anyone else to see his Name. He didn’t want them to find out like that.

He, Tosh and Owen did their best to carry on running the Hub as normal, but everything felt unsettled, Jack’s unconscious state hanging over them. Ianto kept making five mugs of coffee by accident, only realising as he went to go and deliver Jack’s to his office. Every time one of them came up with something that would usually be checked over by Jack they would have a clumsy democracy over it, a growing pile of things that needed Jack’s approval appearing by Tosh’s computer, none of them wanting to go through it.

Ianto felt like he was in a daze; he couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t feel anything. He felt dead inside, and wondered if this was how his father had felt in the few minutes after his mother had died; waiting for death to claim him too, having lost the one thing tethering him to this world.

He’d looked it up, out of morbid curiosity. After meeting their soulmate, no one had ever outlived the other by more than an hour. In some cases, one would live for longer than expected, desperate to stay for each extra second, living off borrowed time from their soulmate. But after you’d met your soulmate, that was it. Neither one of you could live without the other.

“Do you… do you think he’ll make it?” Tosh has asked the morning of the second day, clearly uncomfortable voicing such a thought out loud.

Ianto shrugged. “Yeah. I’m still here. I know he’ll make it.”

It was only after he’d spoken, when Tosh gave him a strong hug with far too knowing eyes, that he realised what he’d said.

The longer he waited, though, the less he believed his own conviction; what if, in some awful, cruel twist of fate, Jack didn’t wake up? Just lay there forever in a state of eternal limbo? What if…

What if Jack was waiting for something? Some _one_?

As soon as he had a minute to himself, as soon as Tosh had stopped hovering round him checking that he was alright every thirty seconds, he pulled up the research he’d been doing once more. He stayed there for hours, not eating, not going home when the evening came, ignoring anyone who tried to speak to him, reading story after story about people who had lived for days, months, years longer than they should because their soulmate was with them, not leaving their side. People who had woken up from comas, survived accidents that no one should have survived, because their soulmate had been there. Articles about how science couldn’t explain it, but somehow the connection between soulmates went beyond the empathetic and the romantic, that no one knew how but something changed when two soulmates found each other.

When the next morning came Ianto woke up at his desk as Owen came in, and he knew exactly what he was going to do, what he had to do. He would do anything to save Jack, no matter what Jack had done or said, because Jack deserved saving. And Ianto couldn’t think of anything worse than a world without Jack.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way down to the vaults, where Gwen was still sitting with Jack. She looked up as he approached, giving him that smile that she gave people when she wanted to reassure them that it was all going to be okay.

“Hi Ianto,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want speak to loud in case she disturbed Jack. “How… how are you doing?”

Ianto nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. He cleared his throat, unable to tear his eyes away from where Jack lay, cold and pale. “Could I, um… Sorry, it’s just-”

Gwen smiled in understanding. “Of course,” she said warmly, giving him a quick but firm hug before quietly making her way back to the centre of the Hub. Glancing down, Ianto saw that Jack’s sleeve had ridden up slightly where Gwen had been holding his hand, the _ones_ of ‘Jones’ visible, and wondered if she’d put two and two together.

Tentatively, he put his hand in Jack’s, trying not to focus on how cold Jack’s skin was beneath his own. He gently ran his thumb over Jack’s knuckles, reading the Names that he knew so well by now.

“Jack,” he whispered, willing his voice not to crack. “Jack, it’s… me, it’s Ianto. We need you, Jack. _I_ need you. Please, Jack. Wake up.” He rubbed the tears from his eyes, not caring that he was shaking as he held Jack’s hand in both of his. “I know you can do it, you’re Jack bloody Harkness; you can survive anything, you said so yourself, just survive this, _please_.”

Nothing.

He rested a hand on Jack’s face so he was cupping his cheek, hating that Jack felt like ice beneath his fingertips. He leant forwards, resting his forehead against Jack’s, willing the universe to let him feel Jack’s breath against his lips one last time.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, his voice trembling, as he leant in and kissed Jack as tenderly as he dared. He’d hoped for some sort of fairy-tale ending; as their lips touched, Jack would once more be filled with life, his eyes fluttering open as he gazed up at Ianto adoringly. But this wasn’t a fairy-tale. There was nothing.

Ianto sat up slowly, unwilling – or unable – to let Jack go. He let the tears run freely now, not caring if anyone saw.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he said, surprising himself with the sincerity with which he said it. “I promise, Jack, I’m not giving up. As long as I’m still here, there’s still hope, I know there is.”

Jack’s fingers twitched.

Gasping, Ianto leant forwards once more, desperately searching for another sign of life. “Jack? Jack, are you… Please, Jack, I’m here, I’m here-”

Jack’s eyes shot open as he inhaled, panicking as he looked around him. His eyes darted back and forth a few times as he worked out where he was, eventually coming to settle on Ianto’s tearful face.

“Ianto?” he breathed disbelievingly. Ianto could see it on Jack’s face; the moment he remembered what had happened, what the team had done to him, their argument. “Ianto, I-”

“It’s okay,” Ianto said, honestly. There would be time to talk about all of that, later. “Don’t worry about all that now. You’re…” he couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “You’re back, you’re alive!”

Jack lifted his hand to cup Ianto’s cheek, the warmth slowly returning to his fingertips. “I always come back,” he said, pulling Ianto down for a kiss.


	10. You Are Not Alone

Ianto couldn’t help but feel out of place in the poshest restaurant in Cardiff, even in his best suit. Then again, this date would be just as awkward if they’d just gone to Burger King. The situation wasn’t the issue.

Why had he agreed to this? No, that was a stupid question; he knew exactly why he’d agreed to it. He’d wanted to come, he really had, and he couldn’t help but feel flattered – or maybe just comforted – that was soon as Jack had got them alone together he’d asked him out. It was a welcome change, certainly, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t hoped and wished for it, but it somehow didn’t feel… right.

He’d had this idea in his head of exactly what would happen when he saw Jack again, the scenario playing over and over in his head; Jack running up to him, apologising for everything, telling Ianto that he had no excuses but that everything was done for him, begging Ianto to take him back. In his head Ianto would tell him that not everything was okay and that they still had things to sort out and that it would take time but eventually things would work out.

Then again, Jack never did things according to any plan.

Jack cleared his throat from across the table, pulling Ianto out of his thoughts.

“Ianto? Did you… have you decided?”

Ianto panicked for a second before seeing an expectant waiter, and realised that Jack was just talking about his food. He blushed a bright red, eyes frantically skimming the menu, ignoring the prices.

“I’ll have the, um, the chicken. The, um, chicken thing. Yeah,” he mumbled, not meeting either Jack’s or the waiter’s eye. He heard Jack thank the waiter who left quickly, clearly feeling awkward.

“You okay?” Jack asked after a few moments. “I mean…” He sighed, stretching one hand out over the table, clearly there for Ianto to take should he want to. “I’m sorry. For everything. Could we… talk about it?”

Usually this would be the point that Ianto took one look at Jack’s face, far more handsome than he had any right to be, and something about that smile would make him forgive, make him say that it was all okay, but not this time. He was suddenly angry, filled with a heatedness that he’d been suppressing for three months.

“You left,” he snapped, not realising how loudly he was talking until people on surrounding tables turned to see what was going on. “You left,” he repeated, his voice lower. “I didn’t know where you were, you didn’t even bother to say goodbye, you just… went. We’d just had that argument and I thought we were going to work things out but you weren’t even around for a couple of hours before swanning off again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, clearly about to say more, but Ianto hadn’t finished.

“And then you turn up out of the blue, and we all go along with it because it’s _you_ but John bloody Hart appears and suddenly we’re all running around after him and I know that he’s old news, that it was ages ago, but it still hurts, Jack, it still hurts to see him standing there bold as brass with your Name on his neck and his on your arm and how many times is that going to happen? How, how many times will I have to stand there while one of your exes looks at me like I’m your baggage, knowing exactly what I am to you?

“And then, after all that, just as I’m thinking that maybe things might be okay, I find out that you were with _him_. You, you left me, Jack, you left me for the Doctor, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me, to let me down gently or whatever. I know that I was stupid and naïve but you knew exactly how I felt and you just walked all over it. I knew _nothing_ , all I knew was that you were alive but you were hurting and I couldn’t do anything because you left me behind while you went off with someone else, someone, someone that you chose. But I still can’t say no to you, I still agreed to this farce of a date because we both know I’ll always agree.”

He stopped, out of breath, looking up to meet Jack’s stunned gaze. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, letting Ianto’s words sink in.

“I’m sorry,” Jack choked out eventually. “I really am, and I know that saying it doesn’t make everything okay, but… I was so obsessed with getting answers, with finding out why I am the way that I am, that I could barely think of anything else. And when…” he took a deep breath. “When you’ve spent over a hundred years waiting and searching for someone, it makes it harder to see what’s right in front of you. I came back for _you,_ Ianto, because the thought of you was what got me through each day. I went with the Doctor to get answers, and I got them. But now I’m back, and I’m staying. I promise.”

Ianto couldn’t help but roll his eyes disbelievingly. “You expect me to believe that? I believed you before, but I’m not making that mistake again. What really happened, Jack? Did the Doctor leave you behind again?” They were harsh words, and they both winced, but there was no real bite behind them; if anything, it was a genuine question.

“He actually asked if I wanted to stay and travel with him,” Jack said coolly, annoyed but trying not to rile Ianto up any more. “I said no, I said that I was needed here; that I _wanted_ to be here. I’m not sure what I’m missing here, Ianto, is there something else going on?”

There was a long silence as Ianto mulled over what to say next, clearly unsure about something. Jack sat, patiently enough, but clearly eager to hear what Ianto had to say; it didn’t look like it was going to be good, but he’d take it.

“Do you-” Ianto started, swallowing before continuing, his eyes flitting around nervously. “Do you know every single Name on your body?”

Jack laughed, relieved at the simple question. “Of course I do, what kind of a question is that? They’re written all over me, I have a story for each and every one of them, you know that. Is that what this is about?” His face fell as he remembered their argument before he’d left, pieces starting to fit together in his mind. “Ianto, I made a mistake before, but I promise you; no new Names. There’s no one else now.”

His concern increased when Ianto continued avoiding his gaze; what was going on?

“Ianto? Please, Ianto, what’s wrong?”

“Do you know,” Ianto said, voice shaking. “Do you know the Name you have just there?” He reached over his shoulder, indicating the top of the neck, below the hairline. Jack felt his blood run cold; there couldn’t be, could there? Was this what this was all about, a Name he didn’t know about? Who was it? What conclusions had Ianto drawn, what had Ianto been going through worrying about this? He shook his head slowly, dreading what Ianto would say next, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Ianto’s eyes were big and forgiving when they met Jack’s, a sad smile on his face. “It says _The Doctor_.”

Jack froze, hating that everything was starting to fall into place. “The Doctor?” he said, his voice shaking. “You… you’re sure?”

Ianto nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Has it-” Jack looked away awkwardly, scared that he knew the answer to his question before he’d even asked it, “Has it always been there?”

Again, Ianto nodded. “For as long as I’ve known you, at least.”

Jack couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

He… he loved the Doctor. He almost wished that he was surprised at the news, but, well, he realised that he’d known all along, somewhere deep down. But at the same time, he knew that this was old news. That whatever he’d felt for the Doctor, whatever lingering feelings he’d held on to for decades were gone.

Ianto would understand that. Surely?

“I-” he started, every instinct screaming at him to _make this okay_ , “I know that me saying this doesn’t make it feel any better, but I don’t – I don’t feel that way anymore. I did once, obviously, but that was a long time ago, and I’ve changed. Hell,” he couldn’t help but give a half-smile, “He’s changed. We’re friends, Ianto, nothing more, and we never will be. I – I’m sorry. Really, I am, if I could go back and change-”

“No,” Ianto interrupted. “No, you mustn’t think like that. Yes, you’ve got a past, and it’s a long and complicated one, but we both have at least to _some_ extent. It’s what makes you who you are, and I – I don’t want you to change that. I know what I said, and I don’t take it back and it scares the hell out of me, but your past… it’s yours.”

He was shaking, and Jack could tell how much courage it had taken Ianto to say that.

“But I still don’t understand,” Ianto continued. He’d calmed down from his earlier anger, but was now quiet and withdrawn. “You… you said so yourself, that you were waiting for him, and he came and you left with him, but then a couple of months later you were back.” He paused, clearly working out exactly how to phrase his question. “What… what changed? You’re different, Jack; what happened?”

Jack took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. He’d known that he’d have to tell Ianto at some point – after all, Ianto deserved to know – but he’d been hoping that he could have put it off a little while longer.

 “I, um…” he hated that his hand was shaking where it was resting on the table between them. “Well, the first thing is that time, it… it changed. So while I was gone for three months, for me it was over a year. Time reversed or something, but, well, the main thing is that I was gone for longer than a few weeks. And it was, it was pretty rough.”

Jack’s breath hitched as he felt Ianto’s hand cover his own, his thumb rubbing over the back of Jack’s knuckles.

“It’s okay,” Ianto whispered. “You don’t have to tell me; if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I understand.”

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their food over, and although Jack felt Ianto’s hand tense he appreciated that he didn’t pull back, ignoring the look the waiter was giving them.

There were a few moments when neither of them moved, before Ianto cleared his throat.

“We should eat,” he said, taking his hand back but smiling at Jack all the same.

They ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally meeting the other’s eye and smiling awkwardly, neither one of them wanting to break the strange balance they’d found. It was only when they were presented with the bill that they started discussing who would pay it, eventually agreeing just to split it as Ianto pretended not to notice that Jack paid his half as well.

It was quite a mild night, especially by Cardiff standards, so they slowly sauntered back to the Bay together, taking in the evening air.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said eventually, breaking the fragile quiet. “For everything I said earlier. I was just angry, and I took it out on you.”

Jack just shrugged. “You had every right to. Everything you said was true; I don’t blame you, not at all. _I’m_ sorry, for everything I’ve put you through. I, er, haven’t been the greatest soulmate.”

Ianto couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Oh yeah, like I’m going to get soulmate-of-the-year award? We’re a terrible pair, Jack, there’s no use denying it.”

“No, I don’t suppose there is!” Jack smiled.

They paused as they reached the Plass, neither sure what to do or say. It was so close to their old routine and it would be so easy to go straight back to how things were before, but something was stopping them. They were at a turning point, and whatever happened next would set them on a track that would go who knows how far.

Eventually Jack broke the fragile quiet, nervously giving his trademark smile. “We should, er, do this again. By which I mean, we should have another first date. Maybe with some lighter conversation.”

“Yes, that would… that would be nice,” Ianto nodded. “I should, um, I should go.” He stuck his hand out awkwardly, not sure what to do, but Jack pulled him into a hug before kissing him slowly. It felt odd, kissing Jack again; it somehow still felt new and exciting, but at the same time it was like he was coming home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Ianto said against Jack’s lips. He went to pull away, gently squeezing Jack’s waist where his hands were resting, but Jack kept him held close.

“Stay?” Jack breathed, and Ianto could feel Jack’s hands beginning to shake again.

Ianto sighed, shaking his head. “I… I want to, Jack, I really do. But just, not tonight. Maybe next time, but I don’t, um, I don’t think we should now. I don’t want things to be like they were before, Jack, does that… does that make sense?”

“Not for any of that,” Jack urged, “I didn’t mean… I understand, completely. I know it’s selfish, but I just don’t…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to be alone. And you don’t have to, not at all, I just thought…”

“That’s fine,” Ianto interrupted. “Of course I’ll stay.”

* * *

 

Ianto lay on Jack’s bed in his t-shirt and boxers, one side pressed against the wall. His arm was wrapped around Jack’s waist, Jack’s head tucked in between his shoulder and his chin, where he would occasionally turn to nuzzle Ianto’s neck. It was strange, getting ready to sleep in such an intimate position without the exhaustion that inevitably followed their usual evening activities, but Ianto knew that it wouldn’t be a chore to get used to it. Already, he could feel Jack’s muscles relaxing under his touch, and he knew that he was doing the same.

“Thank you,” Jack mumbled against Ianto’s neck. “Thank you for being here with me, even after everything. I haven’t been sleeping very well, since…” He tailed off, losing himself in his own thoughts.

Ianto brought his other arm over to gently brush Jack’s hair off his face. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning forwards to leave a kiss on Jack’s forehead. “It’s fine, really. I’m just… I’m just glad I can help, even if it’s just a little bit.” He cleared his throat. “You can talk about it, if you want. You don’t have to. But if you want to, I’m listening.”

He felt Jack take a deep breath but stay relaxed, his hand remaining steady where it lay across Ianto’s waist.

Jack spoke after a few seconds of silence. “Do you remember Harold Saxon?” He asked, his words slow and measured.

“Yes,” Ianto replied, confused as to what this had to do with anything. “Prime Minister for less than forty-eight hours before going nuts. I voted for him,” he added, slightly guiltily.

“Everyone did,” Jack scoffed. “I… well, long story short, I got in his way. He tried to get rid of me, tried to kill me, and obviously failed. So I was…” he trailed off, trying to think of the appropriate word, “…contained.”

Ianto’s arms tensed where they were wrapped around him. He pulled Jack closer to him, holding him tight.

Jack continued. “I died, over and over again. If I managed to escape, I’d be shot down only to be locked up again for when I woke up. After the first few times, I started wishing that I wouldn’t wake up. That the next time I died would be the last time, that everything would just stop _hurting_.” His voice remained unwavering, but Ianto could feel his t-shirt start to grow damp with Jack’s silent tears. “After a while, though, I started… I started thinking about you. And how I had to carry on, I had to live, because it was the only way I’d see you again. I realised that everything I’d ever wanted, ever hoped for, was right there in front of me and I’d just… left. Every day I would think about the prospect of coming home, to you, and that gave me something to fight for. I had a reason to keep going, to not give up. So I kept trying to escape, even though I knew it would never work, and that I’d be hurt more each time, because each time I felt like I was doing something to get closer to you.”

He hadn’t said everything, God knows he hadn’t said everything, and Ianto was bound to have even more questions than he’d had before, but he’d said enough for one night. Enough that Ianto might begin to understand.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto whispered thickly, leaving a kiss on the top of Jack’s head. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone, I’m sorry that you were in pain and that I wasn’t there. I wish… I wish I’d been there, every time you died. To hold you when you wake up, to let you know that you are not alone.”

“Don’t be,” Jack said, sitting up so he could look Ianto straight in the eye. “It’s not your fault; none of it was. And it wasn’t my fault, not really. We’re here now.”

They kissed once more and although neither of them said anything, it was a promise; a promise to be there when the other woke up. Curled up together, so close they could feel the other’s heartbeat, they each slept better than they had in months, a slight smile on each of their faces, the words ‘you are not alone’ dancing around Jack’s head.


	11. Hiraeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone so far who has commented, bookmarked, subscribed or left kudos! Please keep them coming :) nothing quite like motivation!

There was nothing new about walking along Mermaid Quay together. After all, it was right outside the Hub, and the closest place to buy food; it would be more alarming if they’d never gone there. What was new, however, was the way Jack had his arm casually around Ianto as they walked, as if to shield him from the cold winds that whipped in from the Bristol Channel.

The lights of the Millennium Centre were bright as they strolled up the Plass, walking past the water tower to join the throng of people going into the foyer of the theatre. Jack didn’t miss the way Ianto slipped out of his hold as they got closer to the other theatre patrons, standing a more professional distance apart.

“You okay?” Jack asked, knowing better than to make a big deal out of it. Ianto nodded, attempting a casual smile. Their brief and silent exchange told Jack what he needed to know; that Ianto just needed time. “Come on,” he said reassuringly, not bothering to mention that as two men at the opera, they wouldn’t need to be holding hands for people to guess that they were there _together_. “The show’s about to start.”

They started to make their way up the staircase towards the dress circle of the theatre, Ianto checking the tickets to see which door they needed to go to.

“Jack, these are really expensive,” he said, concern evident in his voice. “At least let me give you some money for my ticket, or for the dinner.”

Jack only shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not short on cash. And besides, I don’t even remember buying them. You can tell from the dates; I bought them during those two days that we can’t remember. Obviously I just… fancied treating us.”

* * *

 

It was just a normal day when Ianto started acting oddly; nothing out of the ordinary. Jack didn’t even really register that there was anything wrong; they’d all been run off their feet while Gwen was away with Rhys that smaller things were starting to slip through the cracks.

Jack found Ianto in the kitchen, making five coffees instead of his usual six.

“Hey handsome,” he said, giving his usual cocky grin and leaning against the doorway. Ianto looked up before rolling his eyes, smiling, and going back to the coffee. Jack continued, “Fancy staying, er, after hours tonight? Just the two of us?”

He didn’t think anything of the way Ianto froze for a fraction of a second before replying, not turning to meet Jack’s gaze.

“I was, um, going to go home. Quiet night, you know.”

Jack shrugged, turning to head back to the centre of the Hub. “Of course, whatever you want, that’s… fine.” It was unlike Ianto to shrug him off like that; usually he at least gave Jack the promise of a rain-check, or sometimes a heated kiss followed by a cheeky smile and a ‘not tonight’, both of them knowing that they’d each be spending a lot of time in the shower by themselves that evening.

Memories of Gray, though, memories that he’d repressed decades ago, stopped him from worrying about Ianto for more than a few seconds.

It happened again, though, the following morning; Jack came up behind Ianto, slipping his arms around Ianto’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Hey, handsome,” Jack murmured. He turned his head to leave a kiss on Ianto’s neck but Ianto had already slipped away, pretending to check one of the other computers.

“Ianto?” Jack asked, confused. “Ianto, are you okay? Did I… did I do something wrong? Just tell me, Ianto, it’s fine.”

But Ianto only shrugged, still pretending to focus on the screen in front of him.

“Morning!” The awkward silence that lay between them was broken when Adam came into the Hub. “Hey, Jack, you were going to show me that tech you found, remember?”

* * *

 

“Okay,” Ianto said over his tub of ice cream during the interval. “So, the Count wants to sleep with Susanna who’s supposed to be marrying Figaro the next day, so she and the Countess are, what, trying to catch him out?”

“You got it,” Jack said through a mouthful of ice cream. “Don’t forget the page-boy, Cherubino.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “The horny one?”

“Mm-hmm. He wants to sleep with the Countess. And he’ll do anything for her. I’ve always found him kind of relatable.”

“You would,” Ianto chuckled. “Even though he’s played by a woman?”

Jack laughed. “Remind me to introduce you to the joys of cross-dressing sometime.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, looking out the windows, through the reversed lettering, to the water tower. It was odd, seeing it like this; how it was seen by everyone else, just another feature of the revamped old docks.

The other audience members milled around them, discussing the orchestra and the performers and the costumes. There was a strange anonymity to being part of a crowd like that; not undercover or investigating, just enjoying the show like anyone else.

Swallowing nervously, Ianto turned to face Jack. “Why are we here, Jack? I mean, why the posh dinner and the opera? Not that I’m complaining, I’m not, I’m having a really nice time, I just… don’t understand.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack put his hand over Ianto’s where it was resting on the edge of the balcony. “For whatever reason, I must have decided that we needed a night out together, or I must have wanted to treat you or something. But even though we can’t remember what happened, I still… it feels like _something_ happened. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know that something happened and I guess,” He linked his fingers with Ianto’s, “I guess something happened that made me want to… take care of you.”

The edges of Ianto’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “And there was me thinking that it was my job to look after you, _Sir_.”

Jack groaned internally; since they had started going on dates there was only one reason why Ianto ever called him ‘Sir’, but they still had another ninety minutes of opera to sit through before they could go somewhere private; the thought of slipping off to the toilets, though, or just missing the rest of the show completely, was far too tempting.

He was torn out of his thoughts – rapidly becoming more and more explicit – when Ianto squeezed his hand briefly before pulling back.

“Thank you,” he said with complete sincerity. “For looking out for me, I mean.” He cleared his throat as the announcement came that the performance was about to continue, looking away from the intensity of Jack’s gaze. “We should, um, go through.”

They took their seats once more in the auditorium, and if Jack was surprised when Ianto leant into him when he put his arm around his waist, he didn’t say anything.

* * *

 

“You’re not in my diary,” Ianto breathed, pieces starting to fit together in his head. “You… I don’t know what you’ve done, but you weren’t here. And, and me, and Jack, I don’t know how but you made me _forget_ , I know you did.”

Adam laughed coldly. “Like anyone’s going to believe you. So you’ve found me out, well done to you. Maybe now Jack will love you?”

Throwing his diary onto the floor, Ianto jumped up. “You… you made me think that he didn’t care, that nothing was happening, that I, that I hated him! I’ll tell him and he’ll remember, I know he will, he hasn’t forgotten, and he’ll know what to do with you.”

“Really?” Adam scorned. “You think Jack cares about someone like you, that he could feel anything for someone like you? You’re a killer, Ianto; remember?”

Jack had been out; the combination of his resurfacing memories of Gray with Ianto giving him the cold shoulder had led to the Hub feeling hot and stuffy. He’d gone out to get air, to get space, when he suddenly knew that something was wrong.

He’d felt Ianto’s pain before; physical pain, after all, was not unusual in their line of work. As they’d grown closer, he’d felt more and more of Ianto’s emotional pain, hating how much there was of it. There were mornings when he’d wake up and just not want to get out of bed for no reason until he saw Ianto, and would realise that it wasn’t his own apathy and hurt he’d been feeling. He’d learnt to recognise that twitch in his heart every time something reminded Ianto of Lisa, or the uncomfortable ache whenever Owen made an off-hand comment about their relationship.

Never, though, had he felt anything like this. This was deep psychological trauma, unlike anything Jack had ever felt before; or at least, unlike anything he’d felt _Ianto_ feel. His hands were shaking, his lungs closing in on themselves, and he knew that whatever he was feeling was a fraction of what Ianto was going through.

He ran as fast as he could back to the Hub, pushing past passers-by and vaulting over the railings between him and the Hub’s entrance. He sprinted in, dodging through the cog door as soon as it was open far enough.

Before he saw Ianto, he heard him; hysterical sobs punctuated with a mumbled ‘No, no, no, what have I done, no, no’. Jack ran up to him, immediately pulling Ianto into his arms. He felt Ianto tense momentarily before relaxing into his hold, clutching at Jack’s arms.

“You, you, you need to lock me up,” Ianto begged through his tears. “Please, Jack, I’m not safe to be around, none of you are safe, the things I’ve done, you have to lock me up, you have to.”

“Shh,” Jack hushed him, running his hand through Ianto’s hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything’s alright Ianto, I’m here. You’re safe now Ianto, it’s all going to be okay.”

It took half an hour for Jack to calm Ianto down enough to get a straight answer out of him, half an hour of holding him close and kissing the top of his head, whispering reassurances into his ear. The Hub was silent, only Ianto’s unrestrained sobs echoing around the cavernous space.

“I killed them,” Ianto said eventually, his voice unnervingly steady. “I killed them, Jack, and I, I _enjoyed_ it. I _liked_ it. You have to lock me up, Jack, please, or I’ll kill again, I know I will, I can, I can feel it Jack, I can feel it inside me. I want to kill. I _need_ to kill.”

Jack pulled back, holding Ianto’s face in his hands. “Ianto, I need you to listen to me very carefully. You are not a killer; I know you’re not. Whatever’s happened, I’ll help you to get through this, I promise. We’ll figure this out.”

Tears were streaming down Ianto’s face. “Jack,” he whispered, “Who are we, Jack? I don’t understand. What are we?”

Jack only kissed him.

* * *

 

“So, did you enjoy the show?”

Ianto smiled. “I did, actually; I’ve never been to the opera before, it was nice.” He turned to face Jack. “Thank you. For the whole evening, I mean. I… I needed it. We both did.”

They paused as they reached the Plass, the other audience members dispersing to the car park or the train station.

Jack smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Fancy, er, heading back to the Hub? The night is still young.”

“Well, actually,” Ianto cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was thinking we could… go back to mine? There’s a bit more space, you know. Double bed. And new spaces that we haven’t… explored.”

“Wait, you’re… inviting me back to yours?”

Ianto shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

He didn’t know what reaction he’d been expecting, but looking back he shouldn’t have been surprised at the fierce kiss, followed by being dragged towards the nearest taxi, Jack’s hands already slipping under his jacket.

* * *

 

“Coming here,” Ianto breathed, tears starting to well in his eyes, “Finding you, you gave me meaning again! The hurt, it’s… I hurt less when I’m around you. And I want to remember. I want to remember us.”

Jack couldn’t make any words come out of his mouth; he settled for delicately kissing Ianto’s forehead, passing him an amnesia pill. There was nothing else he could do.

When it came to taking his own pill, it was made easier by thinking about the pitiful, desperate look on Ianto’s face. Jack would do anything to forget it; the way Ianto had looked at him as if he was the only person on the planet, as if Jack was the only thing he needed.

Ianto deserved better. He wanted something that Jack couldn’t be, couldn’t give him. Knowing that Ianto needed him, as much as he needed Ianto, was too much. He didn’t want to remember that anymore; he didn’t want to remember any of it.

* * *

 

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Jack said, pulling Ianto closer to him. “What’s up?”

Ianto shifted slightly where he was lying with one arm around Jack’s waist, his head on Jack’s shoulder. It was odd, but nice, being in a bigger bed for a change; neither one of them had to be pressed up against the wall.

“What… what are we, Jack?”

Sighing, Jack answered. “We have sex. We go on dates. What else is there to define?”

Ianto attempted a shrug against Jack’s chest. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey.” Jack put one hand under Ianto’s chin, lifting it ever so slightly so they were facing each other. “Are you okay? If this is bothering you, we can talk about it.”

“I just, I thought that if I knew what we were, it would be easier to work out what… I was. You know. In terms of all… this.”

“You don’t have to label yourself,” Jack said, sounding more annoyed than sympathetic. “You’re Ianto. We’re us. That’s all that matters.”

Nodding, unconvinced, Ianto tugged himself closer to Jack. Maybe sleeping in a smaller bed did have its perks. “Okay. But we should, er, get some sleep. We’ve both got work tomorrow.”

In one swift movement, Jack moved so that he was hovering over Ianto, their chests almost touching, before leaning down and kissing him. “Or we could… stay up a bit later?” He continued planting kisses down Ianto’s neck, running his hand down his chest. “Spend the night wildly and passionately making love. Enjoy a slow and indulgent breakfast in the morning. I’m sure the boss would be fine with it.”

“Oh, really,” Ianto laughed, his breath hitching as Jack’s hand travelled lower. “You, er, know the boss well, then?”

“I know that he would fully approve of my plan,” Jack said, his lips against Ianto’s shoulder. “So, you in?”

Ianto smirked. “As if you even need to ask.”


	12. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far! Keep them coming :)
> 
> This one sort of... went in a direction that I hadn't planned. But I kinda like it! It's nice to have a bit of humour to break up all the inevitable angst that comes with this show.

There had been a subtle shift in their relationship since Jack had started staying the night at Ianto’s. It somehow felt more significant than when it was the other way round; after all, staying at the Hub wasn’t quite the same as staying at Jack’s, and regardless of their relationship Ianto would have kept an overnight bag there for when they ended up working through the night or needed a change of clothes after a particularly nasty run-in with an alien.

Steadily, though, they started to become more domestic – a word Ianto would never have associated with Jack Harkness. It started off simply enough; enjoying breakfast together in his tiny kitchen instead of eating yesterday’s leftover pizza, having a proper living room (if, really, it was just a sofa and TV) to sit and cuddle in at the end of the day. And then, of course, it only made sense that Jack kept a few pairs of pants and a couple of shirts there for when he stayed the night, and it wasn’t long before Ianto had found him a spare toothbrush. Jack started keeping a second shaving kit in Ianto’s bathroom, and soon had his favourite mug from Ianto’s collection.

It had all happened so gradually, so naturally, that Ianto only noticed that things were changing when Jack started keeping pyjamas at his place, for the rare nights when clothes were put on with the intention of staying that way, rather than being removed at the earliest opportunity. He didn’t say anything, though, but every few days would notice something new; a pile of books on the other bedside table, a photograph of the two of them that Tosh had secretly taken stuck up on the fridge, a pair of slippers (which Jack would deny were his) being kept under the radiator to be warm for when they got home.

As much as he wanted to, though, Ianto didn’t dare say anything; it had all happened so naturally and without fuss that to say anything now would feel like cursing it. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he still wasn’t entirely comfortable in the knowledge that they were now in something that was dangerously close to being a romantic relationship. He’d been avoiding the neighbours ever since Jack had started coming over, desperate not to have to answer any questions, and he hadn’t been able to meet the postman’s eye ever since the door had been answered by Jack in just his boxers. In his head, he hadn’t quite linked up _Jack_ and _men_ – although he was very happy and aware, every night, that Jack _definitely_ was a man – but it was only when confronted with the idea of _them_ that he really worried about the implications. After all, if he was in a relationship with a man, living with a man, then what did that make him?

 _Queer_ , his father’s voice would always come unbidden into his head. His father had always been very clear that he was aware that it wasn’t Ianto’s choice, that he couldn’t help who his soulmate was; he was also very clear that that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Inevitably, it got to a point when he couldn’t ignore it anymore. For a while, none of the rest of the team had been aware of what was going on, and that was more than fine with Ianto. He was perfectly happy to leave any discussion of his and Jack’s relationship at correcting Owen when he made cracks about it. They all knew that _something_ was going on, of course, and he thought that maybe Owen and Gwen were starting to figure out what their exact relationship to each other was, but he never spoke about it, and they never flaunted it during work hours. (At least not intentionally; Owen had a whole list of surfaces that he wouldn’t touch now that they’d been caught when they’d assumed – or rather, hoped – that they were alone.)

In retrospect, changing Janet’s food so quickly probably hadn’t been the best of ideas, but really, how were they meant to know that she was highly allergic to raw chicken? Within a matter of seconds feeding her went from being a one-person job to needing the whole team; Jack to feed her and promptly be vomited on, Gwen and Ianto to restrain Janet and get her back in her cell, Tosh to make notes for research purposes and Owen to watch the whole thing on the CCTV, laughing loudly.

Jack had himself pressed up against the far wall of the corridor, frantically trying to get away from his own feet, hopping from one foot to the other. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, this is the grossest thing that’s ever happened to me, THIS IS DISGUSTING GET IF OFF ME.”

Grunting as she helped Ianto haul Janet back into her cell, Gwen yelled back, “Honestly, Jack, stop being such a girl! We’ll get to you once we’ve locked up this bloody weevil!”

Gwen and Ianto finished getting Janet back into her cell, locking the door firmly behind them, before looking round and jumping back.

“Oh, God, Jack, put some clothes on!” Gwen yelled; Jack had quickly toed off his shoes and slipped out of his trousers, hopping over the puddle of weevil vomit while whispering “Ew, ew, ew, ew,” under his breath.

He turned to face Gwen once he’d reached a dry patch of floor. “A weevil just barfed all over me,” he yelled, pointing wildly to the mess on the floor. “The least you can do to help is put up with me in my pants.”

“At least he’s wearing pants,” Ianto muttered, loud enough for Gwen to hear.

Sighing with frustration, Jack turned to Ianto. “Yes, okay, you were right, I did need to wear pants today, thank you for telling me to do that. Thanks for the _wonderful_ support I’m getting from my team right now.”

Owen came stumbling down the stairs, still giggling to himself. “Oh, Jack, your face was priceless! That’s the best thing I’ve seen in ages, you really know how to cheer a dead man up.”

“Thank you, Owen, for your invaluable input,” Jack said, clearly about to lose it again. “Okay, Ianto and Owen, do either of you happen to have a spare pair of trousers round here somewhere?”

There was a long silence. Ianto looked resolutely at the floor, while the others all looked at each other in confusion.

“Jack, you live here,” Tosh said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you have spare clothes? You can’t be telling me you only have one pair of trousers?”

Ianto cleared his throat. “I, um, have a spare pair somewhere in case of emergencies, so I’ll just go and grab them for you.”

He made to go back to the Hub, but Gwen stopped him.

“What’s going on?” She said suspiciously. “Ianto, I know you. And I know you, Jack. Tell us,” she folded her arms, face set triumphantly. “What is behind the mystery of the missing trousers.”

“They’re at Ianto’s,” Jack said without missing a beat. Ianto immediately felt his face heat up. “As are all my shoes. Problem?”

“So tell me,” Gwen continued, her face more and more smug by the second, “Why are _all_ of your clothes at Ianto’s? Laundry service now, or…”

“I forgot to pack an emergency bag,” Jack replied. He’d clearly caught on to what Gwen was getting at, and wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “Ianto, if you could get me those spare clothes, that would be great.” And with that, he stalked off.

Ianto awkwardly went to follow Jack. “I’d better, um, go with him.”

“What is her problem?” Jack started as soon as Ianto got into his office, emergency overnight bag in hand. “I don’t know, one weevil hurls all over you and you’re getting the third degree-”

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted. Jack paused, one leg in Ianto’s spare trousers. “Jack, are… are we living together?”

Jack laughed loudly. “Of course not,” he scoffed. “I live here, you live at your flat. What on earth made you ask that.”

Ianto raised one eyebrow. “Really? Because, as you’ve so kindly just demonstrated to the entire team, all of your clothes are at my flat. You take up more wardrobe space than me now! And when was the last time you properly slept here? And I don’t mean just a quick kip after a late night of rift activity. Half the food in the fridge here went off because you weren’t eating it anymore, and I know you have my spare key. Admit it, Jack. We’re living together.”

Sighing heavily, Jack finished putting Ianto’s trousers on and leant back onto his desk. “Ianto… what are you saying? Do you want me to spend less time at your flat? Because you could have just said.”

“No!” Ianto said, making them both jump with how quickly he said it. “I mean, no, I like… I like having you around. I just… okay, are we dating? You know, properly?”

“That’s what this is about?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean, sort of! We’re… more than friends, right?”

Jack seemed to realise how important this was to Ianto, his expression suddenly serious. He stepped forwards, slipping his arms around Ianto’s waist. “Yes,” he smiled. “We’re more than friends.” He kissed Ianto slowly, pulling him closer before Ianto pulled back.

For a brief moment Jack looked at him, confused, before Ianto unbuttoned the cuff on Ianto’s left arm and started rolling the sleeve up. He ran his fingers slowly over the lettering on display, gently pressing kisses to the letters of his Name. It wasn’t a particularly erotic or sexual moment, but tender and caring, acknowledging that, no matter what they said or did, their relationship would always mean something more.

* * *

 

Wedding fever had, inevitably, taken over the whole Hub. Only Owen complained and skulked off whenever Gwen’s wedding was mentioned, but Jack knew to just let him go. Tosh was always quizzing Gwen on every detail which was to be expected; something about women and weddings, he supposed. Even Ianto was getting a bit excited, although Jack had a sneaking suspicion that it was mostly to do with the thought of so many suits being in one place.

It had been a very long time since he’d attended a wedding; after all, the only people he really knew worked for Torchwood, and Torchwood employees weren’t known for having particularly successful personal lives. It would be nice, though, to take the afternoon off to celebrate with Gwen; they all deserved it.

Being a husband was something Jack hadn’t been in a very long time. He missed it, in a way; he missed that love and companionship, missed the routine and the steadiness. He would say that he liked having someone to care for, and he did, but he knew deep down that in all of his most successful relationships, he hadn’t been the one doing most of the caring.

Shaking his head, he dispelling the memory of waking up in the early hours of that morning with a nightmare to find Ianto’s arms already around him, hushing and reassuring him. He wouldn’t admit it, certainly not out loud, but he slept easier when Ianto was there. That is to say, he slept.

The last time he had died, Ianto had been there to hold him when he woke up, and he pretended not to notice that Ianto had a particular way of kissing him on death-days, as he’d dubbed them. Just once, before they went to sleep, Ianto would lean in and kiss him, strong and with promise not of sex or pleasure but of safety and comfort.

That was the thing, with marriage. With loving anyone, really. He always outlived them. Always.

 _But not in this case. Not with Ianto_.

No. Not with Ianto. Because he would only live for as long as Ianto lived, their lives intertwined in a way no one understood. With Ianto, he would never truly be alone. With Ianto, he could live a normal life, maybe even start aging again; it’s not like anyone knew how either he or a soulmate bond really worked. And while he may cringe at the occasional grey hair, the thought of growing old with Ianto was… well, it was an oddly pleasant one.

* * *

 

When the wedding reception began and everyone realised that the DJ had in the course of the day become alien food, Ianto eagerly volunteered himself. It hadn’t been that long since university, really, so he must be able to do a half decent job, and he had a fairly good taste in music.

Or at least, that’s what he told a panicking Banana (or whatever his name was). Really, he was just looking forward to a few moments where he could sit out, simply become an observer. He watched as Gwen and Rhys shared their first dance together, laughing with all the other guests as Rhys attempted to dip Gwen and nearly dropped her, smiling as they danced with their new in-laws. He watched as Owen eventually relented and agreed to dance with Tosh, looking awkward together but still smiling. He spotted Jack dancing with Gwen, and didn’t know what they were talking about – not that he really minded – but knew that they’d mentioned him.

He couldn’t have said what it was; maybe it was the knowledge that everyone in this room wouldn’t remember a thing about what had happened today, or maybe it was the wedding fever getting to him, or maybe he was just fed up of hiding, but he stepped out from behind the DJ’s station and made his way to where Jack and Gwen were.

After the initial confusion, Gwen had smiled happily at them, and it occurred to Ianto that maybe her excitement at finding out that they were living together was more than just having something over Jack.

It was a step forward, for both of them; admittedly not a particularly big one, but a step forward all the same. For the first time in over a year since they began sleeping together, Ianto felt like he and Jack were on the same page, and he knew that Jack felt the same way too. This was the moment; though nothing was said, this was the moment that they agreed to make a go of it. To be more than friends, to really mean something. And as he felt Jack’s cheek against his, Ianto knew that he would never feel this way about anyone else. No matter what Jack felt, he knew that for him this was something new, something truly amazing.

Little did he know that Jack was thinking exactly the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please do let me know what you thought in a comment :)


	13. Endings and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter!
> 
> The last few chapters will probably be a bit shorter - sorry about that. This chapter is a bit of a mixed bag; a bit of Towen, a bit of angst, a bit of sexy Janto and a bit of domestic Janto. (Domestic Janto is basically my kryptonite).
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Katie had been dead for less than two weeks when he met Toshiko.

It was like fate was playing a cruel trick; maybe, for someone else, meeting their – dare he say it – soulmate at such a time would have been what they needed, to know that there was someone there for them who would be there for them. Then again, Owen Harper had always been a stubborn bastard.

Four years they’d worked together, and neither of them had mentioned it once. It always hung between them unsaid, neither of them really wanting to know whether or not they were right (although Tosh’s face when he’d introduced himself told him everything he’d needed to know). Never confirming or denying anything, always just… holding back.

He’d known that Tosh had fallen for him; everyone did. He himself had semi-successfully prevented himself for having any true romantic feelings for her, locking them away in some tiny little box somewhere that was labelled ‘Screw the world’. Sometimes he’d nervously laugh it off, sometimes he’d indulge her and hate himself for how much he enjoyed spending time with her, appreciating everything she ever did for him. They’d seen each other find love of every kind elsewhere, never quite working out. Blaming Torchwood was the easier option, although he seriously doubted that any of their relationships would have gone far otherwise, but it was hard to really resent Tosh for falling for some kind words or a good-looking soldier when he’d treated her like shit.

At least he was honest about that.

Dying, though… dying changed something. Waking up to see Tosh weak, fading, trying to hide it from the rest of the team. Knowing that he was stuck in this damn world for longer than he deserved, hating everything and everyone until he grew tired of being angry. If he was being forced to live some kind of twisted version of existence, so be a walking corpse, then he may as well enjoy himself.

They were going slowly, almost glacial speed, but it worked for them. After years of ignoring it and suppressing it, they deserved to take their time.

But time was one thing they were short of.

He hadn’t known, at first; hadn’t known that Tosh was hurt. It had been so long since he’d actually felt physical pain and he was so focussed on trying to escape that it took him a few minutes to work out what the sensation was.

By the time he realised, he was grateful. He was dying, anyway; at least this way, he’d stay dead, no conscience floating around, unbound to a body. And then he hated himself for being glad of it, for finding anything good in Tosh dying, so he didn’t let her know, he carried on, stayed talking for as long as he could.

It was the least she deserved.

* * *

 

There were never any funerals.

Like every Torchwood agent before, Tosh was frozen; kept in the Hub, locked away. She had no one outside of Torchwood; no one to mourn her life outside of work, no one apart from Gwen, Jack and Ianto to remember her.

There was nothing of Owen left to freeze. Jack went back there, desperately searching for something, anything, but to no avail. He’d made Gwen and Ianto stay at the Hub, not wanting them anywhere near the radiation, Ianto’s words over the comms the only thing comforting him as he cried.

But they carried on. It’s what they did; it’s what Owen and Tosh would have done. They called Martha, told her what had happened; Ianto had been the one to tell her, his voice stoic and level until he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She’d asked if they wanted her to come down, if there was going to be a memorial service, but they refused.

“We all have jobs to do,” Jack had said. Ianto could have punched him.

Time passed, as time does. The rift kept them busy, helped them just… carry on.

Neither Jack nor Ianto could remember the last time they’d slept apart. It had been just that, sleep and nothing else, for the first week or so after Tosh and Owen’s deaths; neither of them were really in the mood for anything more. They just needed to be close, to be there for each other, to take comfort in the other’s presence.

As the weeks passed, they slowly started to settle into a new routine. Going into the Hub each day started to become a little bit easier, and the rift certainly kept them busy, allowing little time for distractions. Life went on in Torchwood Three; the rift stopped for no one.

* * *

 

“This is the life,” Ianto said, curling up on the sofa in his tiny flat next to Jack, balancing a coffee in one hand and a plate of bacon and eggs in the other. “Sleeping in, enjoying brunch. I could get used to this.”

Jack laughed. “Oh, sure. ‘Hey, Gwen, would you mind running the Hub by yourself every single morning? Ianto likes his brunch.’ Yeah, I’m sure she’d be fine with that.”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto took a sip of his coffee. “Come off it, it was nice of Gwen to take over for the morning. It’s not often that there’s so little rift activity, we’re just… making the most of it. I didn’t hear _you_ complaining this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack raised an eyebrow, smirking. “If you recall, my mouth was otherwise occupied.” He put their breakfast to one side, shifting so his arms were wrapped around Ianto. He kissed him. “If you’re struggling to remember,” he started slowly planting kisses along Ianto’s jawline, “I’m sure I can arrange a repeat performance.”

“Or,” Ianto pushed him back onto the sofa, hovering above him, “I could return the favour?” He kissed Jack fiercely before pulling back, tugging off first his own t-shirt and then Jack’s. Leaning back down, he mouthed at Jack’s neck, knowing full well he’d leave a mark, as Jack’s hands slipped down the back of his pyjamas.

“Did you-” Jack said, breathlessly. “Did you know that, that your lease is about to expire? I saw the letter on the table.”

“Not the time,” Ianto said quickly, before continuing his path down Jack’s chest. He put one hand on Jack’s hip as he left another lovebite on Jack’s collarbone, his hand slipping to Jack’s inner thigh.

Jack’s breath hitched as he buried one hand in Ianto’s hair. “I just, I just wondered if you were keeping this place or finding somewhere els- oh God, keep doing that, keep doing that.”

Ianto paused where he was sucking on Jack’s hipbone. “If it shuts you up, gladly.”

He tucked his fingers into Jack’s waistband as he started kissing along the V of Jack’s hips, slowly pulling down –

“It’s just, this place is – oh God, Ianto – this place is a bit – small – for both of us, just a bit closer, please, oh God please, and I thought we could, together, find-”

Sitting up to a whine from Jack, Ianto sat back on Jack’s legs.

“Are you asking me if we can live together _during sex_?”

Jack hastily propped himself up onto his elbows. “Technically we’re already living together, and technically we hadn’t got to the sex, so what I was _actually_ doing was asking whether you wanted to find a new place, together, during foreplay.” Ianto gave him a withering look. “What? So, what do you say?”

Ianto sighed heavily. “I say that this is very, very trashy, and couldn’t you have possibly thought of a better time to bring this up?”

“I don’t see what the big problem is! Look, if it bothers you that much, we’ll discuss it later, it’s fine, and we can just… carry on. Yeah?”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, Ianto, I was really getting into that!”

Ianto tugged his shirt back on, throwing Jack’s at him. “Jack, I’m not going to get you off while you ask me if we want to move in together. You want to do this? You do it properly.”

Nodding slowly, Jack went to sit up, pulling his shirt on. “Okay.” He sat up and took Ianto’s hands in his. “Um…”

“How about you… start again,” Ianto said, taking pity on Jack.

“Okay, well…” Jack suddenly looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Ianto, I noticed that your lease on this flat was due for renewal, and – and this place is quite small, especially for two, and I thought maybe, if you wanted to…”

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted, his eyebrows raised, a small smile on his face.

“Got it, I’ll get to the point. Ianto – would you like to move. To a new place. With, er, with me?”

It was so unusual to see Jack looking so nervous that Ianto couldn’t help but smile as he leant forwards and kissed him. “Of course,” he said. “I… I would love to.”

Jack’s arms wrapped around him and he let himself be pulled into a hug, tucking his head into Jack’s shoulder. He stretched up slightly, kissing just under Jack’s chin. “How about we… celebrate? If you’re, er, up for it?”

“Oh, I definitely am,” Jack smirked, kissing Ianto fiercely before lying back, Ianto’s hands already slipping into his pyjamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Only three chapters left...
> 
> Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought :)


	14. Hope and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Retrospectively, the last chapter wasn't great, for which I apologise. Hopefully this one's a bit better!
> 
> I have expanded on the conversation between Ianto and Rhiannon in CoE Day One, because why not! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Ianto often felt bad for not spending more time with Rhiannon; she was his sister, after all, and although they hadn’t been particularly close growing up they’d certainly gotten along alright. But whenever she invited him over, something made him freeze up and decline the offer, throwing any excuses that he could her way. She never let him get away with not visiting at Christmas, especially after Lisa died; she’d never believe that he had to work on Christmas Day, and he hadn’t wanted to give any hint that there might be someone else he wanted to spend Christmas with. In fact, Jack had had his own plans that Christmas; he didn’t tell Ianto where he was going, but Ianto knew him well enough by now to know that Jack would tell him if he wanted to, and that there was no point trying to get it out of him otherwise.

Usually he’d make at least a vague effort to get there for birthdays, even if he just stuck his head round the door to pass over a hastily bought card and unwrapped box of chocolates, but Rhiannon had learned to stop expecting him there a while ago. He sometimes felt a twinge of guilt when he remembered her reaction when he’d told her he was moving to Cardiff: “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant! It will be so nice having you closer; we’ll be able to see each other more often now, won’t we!”

He wasn’t sure what held him back. Maybe it was that Rhiannon was the last person tying him to a family that he couldn’t wait to escape from, or that she was a reminder of the everyday normality that he both resented and longed for, or that it was just easier to stay away, to not get involved.  It was so easy to think of excuses to stay away that he ended up barely seeing them, content with annual guilt-ridden Christmas lunches.

It turned out, though, that he would do anything for Jack, for Torchwood, for the children of the Earth. And hey, what better reason to visit your sister?

He spent the drive down to Newport deep in thought. Things that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a few months now were roughly thrown to the forefront by the events of the day; namely, _children_. It was something that had always been a part of his mental picture of Life As A Grown Up, like it was for virtually everyone, but suddenly that wasn’t on the cards anymore. He didn’t know how you could grieve something you’d never had, but he had never given much thought to the reality of a change in plans. Subconsciously, even through everything that had happened over the past couple of years, his life plan had stayed roughly the same. He’d meet someone (the restrictions on the Someone had, of course, changed), and eventually they’d settle down. Find a flat together, then get married, buy a house. A couple of years later, a child, and then a few years after that another, and maybe even a third. They might have a dog or a cat, one of those unattractive but utterly practical family cars on the driveway, and a small garden at the back – small enough that it could be kept tidy fairly easily, but large enough for children to play around in.

Now, he was looking at a very different version of his future. Sure, the first few things had gone according to plan; he and Jack had moved into their new flat a few months ago, and everything was going well. It was a nice place; much bigger than Ianto’s previous flat, more than twice the size, with more than enough space for both of them. The rent was more than affordable, Cardiff not being known for its high house prices, and it certainly made a pleasant change from Ianto’s cramped flat or Jack’s Torchwood bunker.

Sometimes Ianto would think through the next few things on his list. Getting married had always been the next logical step after moving in with someone, but he didn’t kid himself that that would be realistic. Just the thought of Jack settling down like that was an odd one; he’d only recently stopped spending his time brooding on rooftops. Besides from the many commitment issues between the two of them, there was the legal barrier; a civil partnership just wasn’t quite the _same_ , although it was better than nothing.

So, no marriage. And as for children… Well, it was never going to happen naturally – although, from the way Jack spoke sometimes, Ianto occasionally thought that he should be asking some more questions. Even if they did – hypothetically – go for another option? It simply wasn’t practical. Two parents working for Torchwood was no environment in which to bring up a child. And the thought of Jack as a parent…

This was where Ianto always stopped thinking down this route because he knew, despite Jack’s inevitable protests that he could already imagine, Jack would be a brilliant father. But could he put Jack through that? Could he willingly help Jack get attached to another person, to a child, to their son or daughter, just to see them grow old and die like everyone else in Jack’s life?

No. Ianto couldn’t do that, he couldn’t even bring himself to plant the idea of that sort of future in Jack’s head. Despite all of that, though, he couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like, to share that with Jack. He knew it was fruitless, running over countless scenarios in his mind, but he couldn’t help it. Just that morning, when all the children had stopped at the same time all over the world, he couldn’t help but think about what would have happened if their own child had been in the mix. The worry and panic on Jack’s face, the way he would have insisted that they go straight back home so they could be together as a family while they worked this all out. He felt a deep ache in his heart, just thinking about it.

He shook himself out of it as he took the turning to Newport. Now was not the time.

Hating how much he stood out, Ianto pulled up in the SUV outside Rhiannon’s house. Silently cursing Jack for taking his car to wherever it was he was going, he knocked on the door, letting himself in at the call of “It’s open!”

It was like any other visit to Rhiannon’s, few and far between though they were; he turned up with some terrible excuse for having not seen her in months, handed a crisp ten-pound note to David and Mica, and made some vague attempt to make up for his absence. Rhiannon would roll her eyes, try to talk him into staying longer, but he’d leave after a couple of minutes and not see her for another six months. It was practically routine by this point.

“Come on, sit down. We have things to talk about.”

“What things?”

“You’ve been seen.”

He knew from that point on that he was putting off the inevitable; after all, there’s only so long that you can lie to your sister for before it just becomes easier to give in. And really, wasn’t it time that he told her? Yes, he wasn’t exactly sure what he and Jack were, but they’d definitely stopped being casual months ago. Even so, he wanted to cling onto that illusion for a little while longer; telling the only person he knew outside of Torchwood was a huge step, and one that he wasn’t sure he was ready to take.

It was completely futile, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but try and deflect. “So? You have dinner with your friends.” “He’s my boss, nothing odd about that.” “Mica’s hearing this, maybe-” As expected, it was no use.

“I know you’ve had girlfriends before,” Rhiannon continued, ignoring – or perhaps relishing in – Ianto’s evasions. “But, you know, in your situation, I didn’t really know what to say.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow, his sister mimicking him perfectly. “My… situation?”

“You know.” She shrugged, as if to appear nonchalant. “Your… soulmate situation.”

“Rhi-”

“No, I know you don’t like talking about it, but… don’t use it as an excuse. I’m your sister, I know you. Talk to me, Ianto, please. Have I… have I done something wrong?”

Once again, he tried making excuses, but she looked so genuinely worried and… well, it couldn’t hurt, could it? Might even be nice. One less secret between them.

He took a deep breath, and he knew from the change in her face that she could tell that he was finally coming clean.

“I found him.” The words rushed out all at once, and he couldn’t help but grin once they were out there.

Whatever she’d expected him to say, that clearly wasn’t it. “No! Really? Really, though? You…”

She grinned almost as widely as he did. “Ianto, that’s… that’s brilliant. Is – is it?”

He paused for a second before nodding. “Yes. It is brilliant.”

“And he’s nice, yeah?”

Another nod. “Yeah. He… you know, it’s funny. I spent so long worrying about what my Name said about _me_ , and how it would be weird or different, but… it’s not. And that’s because it’s just him. Not… men. Just him. And I’m not really sure what it is so… I’m not broadcasting it.”

Rhiannon nodded in understanding. “Oh, of course, I understand. But he’s treating you well? Not messing you around or anything?”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto laughed. “What are we, twelve? Yes, things are… going well, I think. We’ve been going slow but steady – very, very slow – for a while now, so, yeah. It is what it is. Oh, and while I remember,” he reached inside his jacket for a scrap of paper and pen, scribbling something down, “I’ve just moved – here’s my new address. You, um, you should all come round. Sometime.”

Taking the piece of paper from him, Rhiannon scanned through his scrawl. “This is a bit more upmarket than your previous place,” she noted, and he could tell from her face that she already suspected. “Big pay-rise?”

Ianto cleared his throat nervously. “Well, yes, but actually, ah, I’m only paying, um, half the rent. It’s… not just me. Anymore.”

Again, her eyes grew wide with disbelief as her suspicions were confirmed. “So, when you’re inviting me round-”

“Maybe not straight away. But… in the near future. Maybe give it a few weeks. I, um, have a feeling that you two will get on.”

Rhiannon only smiled knowingly. “I look forward to it.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest; this big secret that he hadn’t realised he had been carrying around with him was gone. He almost didn’t care that he had to take the train back to Cardiff, determined that nothing was going to dampen his mood; not even the lost SUV. After all, it would simply be replaced, and any anger Jack had about it would probably be worked through in bed that night. Worse things happened all the time; every single day. A lost car wasn’t the end of the world.

He spent the train journey back planning his evening; provided that this children thing didn’t go on too long, there might be time for him and Jack to order Chinese back to their flat, put on a film, maybe open a bottle of wine. Enjoy a slow, leisurely night in bed together, or maybe a fast and fierce one; either was fine by him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in such a good mood.

When Jack called out to him, “Ianto, we’re having a baby!”, he was so distracted that it took him a few seconds to realise that Jack was talking about Gwen. He couldn’t help but feel his heart sink slightly at that; he was happy for Gwen, of course he was, but it was something that she and Rhys could achieve by accident that he and Jack couldn’t achieve at all.

And then the alarm went off.

Within a matter of seconds, all thoughts of children and futures were wiped from his mind. Jack had a _bomb_ inside him, an actual, explosive bomb. He couldn’t believe it; all of his useless planning and dreaming when their future was about to end in a matter of seconds. Typing away at the computers he searched desperately for a solution while Jack got Gwen out, determined not to let this thing detonate. There had to be something he could do, surely?! Jack was shouting, telling him to get out, but he couldn’t, because Jack had survived everything the universe had thrown at him before but there’d always been something _left_. What if… what if this really was it?

“Ianto, get out, get to safety! _NOW!_ ”

Jack was pulling him towards the lift, ignoring his protests, and despite Jack’s words Ianto knew he was afraid. They kissed fiercely but it was too much like a goodbye, he couldn’t lose Jack, not like this, not so quickly.

As the lift slowly started to move upwards, Ianto let his hand run along Jack’s forearm where he knew his Name was, and he felt Jack do the same along his torso around his ribcage; the reassurance that each of them needed.

“I’ll come back, I always do,” Jack said, and Ianto hated that it sounded less like a promise than a question, a hope. Keeping Jack’s eye contact for as long as he could he challenged himself to memorise everything about Jack; every feature, every flaw.

And then he ran. He ran and ran and-

BOOM.

He felt himself be blasted forwards, screaming in pain. He knew he was bruised, he knew he’d got a few cuts, but he could _feel_ himself being torn apart from the inside, followed by the horribly familiar feeling of cold, of ice, of loneliness, that he felt every time Jack died. He’d almost expected this time to feel different, that maybe, somehow, he’d feel even less than he had before.

One hour. If he lived for longer than an hour, then he knew Jack would make it.

So he hid, and he waited, and he watched. And when an hour came and went, he breathed a sigh of relief before reality kicked in.

He was a fugitive now. Someone had wanted to kill Jack, and by extension, him and Gwen. He had to run, he had to hide, and he had to live.

Most importantly, he had to find Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter and the epilogue to go!
> 
> Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Finding Peace

Telling Ianto about what had happened in 1965 was one of the worst things Jack had ever had to do. Living with the things he’d done, dealing with the grief and self-hatred, that he was used to; he’d had two thousand years, buried underneath Cardiff, to deal with all of that. Having to see Ianto’s face, though, when he realised what Jack had done? That was another thing entirely.

It wasn’t as if he’d ever actively shied away from telling Ianto about his past; any questions he’d always answered. And Ianto understood that he didn’t know everything by a long shot; after all, it would take a whole lifetime just to tell him _everything_. Besides, it wasn’t like there was a shortage of things he’d done that he was ashamed of. Admittedly, not much matched up to selling children to aliens on that front, but (he told himself) it was all in the past. He’d made a poor decision, yes, but that was a long, long time ago.

That wouldn’t change the way Ianto looked at him, though, as if he didn’t know him. A strange mixture of pity that he’d gone through that and betrayal, as if this somehow didn’t match up to Ianto’s mental image of him. Perhaps, if they hadn’t been on the run and living in a warehouse with Gwen and Rhys, and the world hadn’t been ending, he might have been more willing to open up and talk about what had happened, but this was neither the time nor the place.

He would never resent Ianto for anything, least of all wanting and needing anything from him in a relationship, but he couldn’t help but wish that sometimes they were able to be a bit more… _independent_. It sometimes felt like he couldn’t go anywhere without Ianto questioning it, or that Ianto started to get suspicious if he ever had a secret. He knew that it was just the manifestation of Ianto’s insecurities, and he couldn’t bring himself to blame Ianto for worrying, so he tried his best not to get annoyed but it wasn’t always easy. But then, he was pretty sure being in a relationship with him wasn’t easy, either.

It still amazed Jack, though, that Ianto would always stand by him. It was more than he deserved, he knew that; even after everything he’d done, everything Ianto now knew, Ianto had held him after he was shot by Clem, comforting him when he woke up. Once again he was amazed by how much Ianto was willing to forgive, and he dreaded the day that he would inevitably do or say something that pushed Ianto away. He would do whatever he could to make sure that Ianto always felt valued, cared for, loved. Every time another secret was revealed, another part of his past brought to life, he knew that it made Ianto feel alienated, apart from him, but he never wanted that; not ever.

* * *

 

How could he have been so _stupid_?

He should have come by himself. No matter what happened he would have survived, but Ianto? Ianto was mortal, and vulnerable, and Jack had led him straight into danger. This… this couldn’t be happening, could it? It couldn’t be over so soon, so quickly, when they’d had so little time together?

This was all his fault. He’d been a part of it decades ago and he was a part of it now, he’d provoked the 456, he’d let Ianto come with him when this was his mess that he should have been sorting out.

Even now, though, Ianto was there for him.

“It’s not your fault.” It was as if he could read Jack’s mind, as if he knew the countless fragments of thought racing round.

Jack could only shake his head. “Save your breath,” he said, not once taking his eyes off Ianto’s. How had he not appreciated every moment they’d had together? Why hadn’t he taken even just one extra second every day to revel in the fact that Ianto Jones was in his life, that he was Ianto’s and Ianto was his?

He’d been stupid, he’d been ignorant, and he’d managed to forget that this was never going to be forever. He’d taken so much for granted, let it all just fly past him, and what a cruel trait of humanity that he was only realising this _now_? That he only had minutes if not seconds left to be with Ianto and he had to make each and every single one of them count.

Ianto was heavy in his arms but he relished in it because it meant that Ianto was there and with him. There were so many things, so many moments, a whole future, that he’d wanted to give Ianto, and in a second that had all been ripped away from him. All he could do now was make sure that Ianto had this; that he was at peace, that he had comfort.

Trying desperately to hold back his tears, he cupped Ianto’s cheek, blocking out everything that was happening around him so that they could just… be.

Tears started to slowly spill out of Ianto’s eyes. “I love you,” he said, as if the words couldn’t be held back any longer, and his eyes bore deep into Jack’s trying desperately to make him understand.

The words were on the tip of Jack’s tongue, and he wanted to get them out so badly because Ianto deserved to hear them, but he just… couldn’t. It was too much like saying goodbye.

“Don’t,” was all he managed, trying to look reassuring but hating the way Ianto’s face fell. He could feel Ianto becoming weaker and weaker and he pulled him closer, desperate for something, anything to save Ianto.

Ianto tried to bring his hand up, whether it was to hold Jack’s hand or pull himself into a closer embrace or caress Jack’s cheek, Jack couldn’t tell, but he was too weak and it was too much. In that instant they both knew that Ianto was fading fast and Jack was filled with a new desperation, determined to somehow make this alright.

Looking up at him tearfully, Ianto let out a small sob. “It was… good, yeah?”

Jack could only nod, not trusting himself to say much. “Yeah.”

“Remember me?” Ianto pleaded.

Jack almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did - did Ianto even think he could be forgotten?! Did he… did he assume that he would just be forgotten? Did he really think that he meant so little to Jack?

He ran his thumb over Ianto’s cheek, desperate to make Ianto realise how much he cared, how much he –

How much he loved him.

“I could never forget you, Ianto,” he said, his voice cracking. “I – I’m never going to leave you, okay? We’re together now. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

For a moment Ianto started to shake his head, ready to protest, but he was too weak. As his eyes fluttered shut his breathing became shallower and Jack couldn’t hold back any longer, tears rolling freely down his face as he could feel Ianto’s life leaving him.

This couldn’t be happening, not now; it was too soon, they needed more time, they needed to be _together_. Ianto couldn’t be leaving him, not now, not like this, if anyone deserved better it was Ianto, he deserved so, so much more.

“Ianto?” He knew it was hopeless, he knew it was too late, but he had to _try_ because if he didn’t try then what even was the point? “Ianto? Don’t – don’t go, Ianto, don’t leave me, _please_.”

But there was nothing.

He could feel Ianto’s heartbeat weakening, his body pushing to keep him alive, his breath only a few strained reflexes.

“Please,” He turned to the tank containing the 456 watching him silently. “Please, I’m begging you, _save him_! I’ll give you anything you want, just save him, _please._ ”

_You will die. And tomorrow, your people will deliver the children._

Jack barely registered the response as his heart turned to ice, cold coursing through his veins. He knew, in that moment, that Ianto was gone. In that moment he felt true loneliness, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and a treacherous part of his brain reminded him that this was what Ianto felt, every time he’d died.

He cradled Ianto’s face in his hands once again, committing every feature to memory one last time. He felt that he was fading; he didn’t have long left.

 _I’ll be with you soon_ , he thought, not daring to waste a single breath. _I’ll be there soon, Ianto. We’ll be together. Always._ Leaning forwards, using every ounce of his strength, he kissed Ianto with everything he had, savouring every second.

And as he lay next to Ianto, his last breaths shaking his body, he felt the familiar sensation of his body beginning to shut down. He was dying. But he was with Ianto, and whatever there was next? They would face together. This was it, this was the end. He’d lived for so long, for too long, and for a few precious years he had felt _alive_ because he finally had this. An ending. He was content to leave, now; he didn’t want to live in a universe that didn’t have Ianto Jones.

He took his last breath, knowing that this was it. He was dying, for the final time. One arm was wrapped around Ianto, hating that this was it, this was their end, but he was honoured. Honoured that the universe had chosen him, of all people, to love Ianto Jones.

Finally at peace, he died.

* * *

 

There was nothing but darkness.

Then Jack woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos!  
> Only the epilogue to go now...


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The last chapter... 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, left kudos, commented, bookmarked... I never expected this fic to be as popular as it is! So thank you all :)

_He took his last breath, knowing that this was it. He was dying, for the final time. One arm was wrapped around Ianto, hating that this was it, this was their end, but he was honoured. Honoured that the universe had chosen him, of all people, to love Ianto Jones._

_Finally at peace, he died._

* * *

 

There was nothing but darkness.

Then Jack woke up.

For a blissful split-second he tried to remember what had happened this time, where he was, how he’d died, before he remembered.

Ianto.

No. No, no, no, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be alive, why was he still here?! He couldn’t be, he shouldn’t be, this wasn’t meant to happen.

He sat up quickly, his eyes frantically taking in his surroundings, trying to work out what happened. Slowly, his gaze fell on Gwen, sitting with her back to him. She was –

She was sitting next to Ianto.

He was – he was just lying there, completely still. Sometimes people say that the dead look like they’re sleeping, and he desperately wished that that was just the case, that he could wrap his arms around Ianto’s waist and kiss his cheek, gently murmuring to him until he woke up, his eyes blearily fluttering open. But Ianto wasn’t sleeping; he was lying too still. His chest lay flat, not rising up and down with each breath. His face was frozen, no sign of the wrinkle of his nose when he sniffed, his eyes remaining still behind his eyelids. There was no sign of the shrug of his shoulders as he rolled over, tucking himself into Jack’s side or taking the warm space left when Jack got up early.

If only he really were sleeping.

Gwen turned around as she heard Jack beginning to move, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Jack?” she breathed, shocked.

He couldn’t look at her, though, unable to tear his eyes away from Ianto. His blood ran cold through his body, his limbs heavy as lead. He could feel Ianto’s absence from the world and it was _killing him_ , he wanted to die all over again and again and again and again until it all just _stopped_.

“Jack?” Gwen said once more. “Jack, are you… you’re alive, Jack, I thought you-”

“Me too.” The words stumbled out of Jack’s mouth without him realising, and before he knew it he was sobbing, loud and messy as Gwen wrapped her arms around him and held him. He shut his eyes, unable to stand looking at Ianto’s still, motionless body any longer, burying his head in Gwen’s shoulder as he cried.

“He can’t be – he can’t be gone,” he cried, feeling a world away from Gwen and her warmth and her kindness. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, he can’t be, can’t be, this isn’t – this isn’t right…”

“Shh,” Gwen hushed him, rubbing his back. “I know, I know sweetheart, I know.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I can’t be here without him, I can’t – I can’t be in a world without him.” He could feel Gwen shaking, trying to hold back her tears, but all he could do was stay as he was, unable to do anything else. “I should have died, I should be with him.”

“No, no Jack, don’t say things like that-”

“I should have died,” he said, louder, feeling the rage rising through his body. “I should have died, I – I _wanted to die!”_

Gwen jumped at his shout, pulling him closer to her as he sobbed.

“I-” he collapsed, speaking at barely a whisper. “I want to be dead.”

He knew it was true, that no matter what he had ever felt before, he hadn’t ever truly wanted to be gone, to be _dead_ until this moment. Nothing; being tortured by the Master, being buried under Cardiff for centuries; nothing compared to what he felt right now. He felt… lost. As if whatever had been connecting him to the world was gone.

“I’m so sorry, Jack,” Gwen cried. “I’m so, so sorry.” He could feel himself slowly starting to warm up in her arms, the chill steadily leaving his skin. She whispered, “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“I don’t – want this – anymore.” Each syllable was taking an inordinate amount of effort, forced breathlessly out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop because he couldn’t do anything but tell the world that _he wanted out_. “I – I can’t.”

“Jack?”

Ianto’s voice.

He wondered if he was dying again, if he was dead, if this was what would happen for the rest of time; perpetual torture of dying and waking up and dying and waking up with the constant memory of Ianto. He shook his head, burying it further into Gwen’s neck as fresh tears fell.

“Jack? Jack, what’s happening, where – Jack, what – what’s going on, Jack, please, Jack, where are you, what happened, I don’t understand, Jack, Jack…”

Slowly, not daring to believe it, Jack lifted his head up off Gwen’s shoulder. He didn’t dare to hope, to even think about the possibility, but there – there he was, those blue eyes that he would recognise anywhere wide and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was real or not but he didn’t care because _there he was_.

Barely breathing, he spoke. “Ianto?”

Gwen turned, gasping as realisation dawned. “Ianto, you’re, you…” she trailed off, taking in the scene before her. “I’ll, um, leave you two, er,” she stood up, unnoticed, leaving.

“Ianto?” Jack said once more, filled with disbelief.

“Jack,” Ianto breathed, and it was all they needed before they threw themselves at each other, holding each other close, kissing as if it was the last chance they would ever have. “What – what happened, Jack, I don’t understand, I-”

“You’re alright!” Jack leant back, cupping Ianto’s face in his hands. “You… you’re here, you’re alive, and I thought, I thought-” He ran his hands over Ianto’s shoulders, his arms, his chest, making sure that he was _real_ and he was _here_.

Panic was written across Ianto’s face. They clung to each other, unable to even think of being apart, their foreheads pressed together. Tears were still sliding steadily down Jack’s cheeks but he didn’t care anymore, that didn’t matter.

“I thought,” he choked, “I thought you were dead, Ianto, I thought you were gone but you’re – you’re not, you’re here, you’re with me, you’re _alive_ and I can’t believe it but it’s you, oh God, you’re here!”

Ianto brought his hand to the back of Jack’s neck, keeping him close, and Jack could feel that he was shaking. “But Jack, what happened? I was dying, I – I _died_ and then there was just nothing and I wanted, I needed you, but I couldn’t find you, and now…”

Jack took a deep breath, the pieces slowly slotting together in his mind. “I – I can’t die,” he stated, placing each syllable.

“I know, but-”

“No, I… I _can’t_ die. I’m a fixed point in time and space, I always have to exist, and I got it wrong, Ianto, I got it all mixed up. We – we don’t die together. Soulmates don’t… soulmates don’t die together.”

“What are you saying, Jack, I don’t understand?”

“They live together, Ianto, _we_ , we live together. As long as I’m alive then you’re alive, and that’s… that’s forever.”

Ianto’s eyes widened almost comically. “You mean... _forever_?”

Jack nodded, unable to hold back the grin on his face. “Yes, forever! Me and you, living until the end of time, never being apart. Do you… do you want that?”

The small flicker of doubt that he felt was quickly put to rest when Ianto’s face lit up. “Of course I do, Jack! It’s… it’s all I’ve ever wanted. If that’s, er, what you want?”

“Yes,” Jack smiled, “Yes, it is. I – I love you, Ianto.”

“You – you do?”

“Yes! And I hate myself for not telling you sooner, for ever giving you reason to doubt it, but I love you, Ianto Jones. So, so much.”

Ianto leant in and kissed him. “I love you too. Until the end of time.”

“Until the end of time,” Jack repeated, holding Ianto close, feeling the strength of their two heartbeats, synchronised as one, and thanking the universe – not for the first or last time – for giving him Ianto Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment letting me know your thoughts :)
> 
> And thank you once again to you all for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: singing-fangirl


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